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Brenda’s Summer at 
Rockley 

A Story for Girls 


BY 

HELEN LEAH REED 

Author of “Brenda, Her School and Her Club” 
“Miss Theodora,” Etc. 


ILLUSTRATED BY JESSIE WILLCOX SMITH 



BOSTON 

LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 

1901 


THF LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

T\M 3 Copita RECEtVEO 



OCT, 15 1901 


COPVRIQHT ENTRY 


OzA 

CLASS d XXc. No. 

/ 9 

COPY a 


Copyrigbtf igoiy 

By Little, Brown, and Company. 
All rights reserved 


October, 1901 



• • 


• • • • o 

• • • 

• • • • « 
• • • 

• • • • » 


^ • • • 
• • 



UNIVERSITY PRESS • JOHN WILSON 
AND SON • CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A. 


CONTENTS 


Chapter Page 

1. On the Sands 1 

II. A Mistake 15 

III. New Acquaintances 28 

IV. An Accident 40 

V. At Nahant 51 

VI. Julia’s Return 62 

VII. The Fourth begins 75 

VIII. A Rescue 93 

IX. The “Balloon” 113 

X. Two Calls 127 

XT. The Pilgrimage 145 

XII. Fort Sewall and St. Michael’s 161 

XIII. Gypsies and an Accident 175 

XIV. A Falling Out 189 

XV. The Reading Class 201 

XVI. Absent-Mindedness 214 

XVII. A Visit to Miss South 227 

XVIII. A Prospective Brother-in-Law 241 

XIX. Maine and Manchester ‘ 254 

XX. The Rosas Again 266 

XXL A Wedding Garment 280 


vi CONTENTS 

Chapter Page 

XXII. Presents and Preparations 291 

XXIII. The Wedding 305 

XXIV. A Day in Salem 323 

XXV. The Summer’s Harvest 339 

XXVI. Two Heroines 348 

XXVII. The End of the Summer 360 


ILLUSTKATIONS 


From drawings by Jkssib Willcox Smith 


Page 

But in spite of herself she listened Frontispiece 

There was a dreamy look in Amy’s eyes 120 

Using her oar as a lever, she tried to push off 225 

They felt a little perturbed as they stood in the small vestibule of - 
the chapel 305 

Lifted her in his arms, and walked with great strides across the 

beach 355 



BRENDA’S 

SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


I 

ON THE SANDS 

“ Brenda, Brenda,” called a clear voice, “ where are 
you, Brenda ? ” 

“ Coming, coming,” answered Brenda, from a corner of 
the piazza. Yet though she had answered cheerfully, she 
made no effort to rise from her chair. Evidently her 
book was too absorbing. 

“ Well, we can’t wait for you, you ’ll have to walk.” 

“No, no. I’ll come,” cried Brenda rising, and throwing 
down her book on the chair from which she had risen. 
“ I ’ll be down as quick as a wink. My things are up- 
stairs.” 

Running into the house, Brenda for a moment was lost 
to sight, but only for a moment. For, quicker than 
“ a wink,” she had returned to the piazza, and leaping 
down the side steps, had joined her cousin Julia waiting 
a little impatiently at the entrance to the driveway. 

“ I would just as soon walk,” said Brenda. “ It is n’t 
very hot, and it ’s only a little way to the beach.” 

1 


2 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“I know it; I think myself that it would be rather 
pleasant to walk. But Aunt Anna wants us to call for 
her at the village. She went down there after breakfast, 
and as the horse was harnessed she thought that we 
might as well drive.” 

“Oh,” said Brenda, “I did not even notice that she 
had gone out. I have been reading ever since breakfast. 
Where have you been?” 

“ I Ve been pottering around in the garden. I filled 
the vases for the dining-room, and I Ve just enjoyed 
every minute. This seems like summer at last. It’s 
the first really warm day that we ’ve had.” 

“ Well, Julia, you are a funny girl,” and Brenda 
laughed brightly. “ Just wait until it is a little warmer, 
and you won’t speak of enjoying a warm day. We can 
have it warm enough even here by the sea, I can assure 
you, sometimes.” 

“Yes, but I don’t believe that it can ever be unbear- 
able, so near the sea. Why I have always heard that the 
North Shore is cool ! ” 

“ Oh, perhaps it is compared with some places. I dare 
say that to-day it is much cooler here than in the city. 
We ’ll ask papa when he comes down. At any rate I am 
glad that it is warm enough now to bathe.” 

The girls took their places in the carriage, and in 
a few minutes they reached a group of houses and shops, 
called by the summer residents “the village,” although 
it had no streets but the main road, no church or public 
building, and consisted of hardly more than a dozen 


BRENDANS SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


3 


houses, — the blacksmith’s shop, the post-office in a small 
grocery shop, and a few dwellings occupied chiefly by 
people who worked for the summer residents. 

Mrs. Barlow came out of one of these houses, looking 
a little disturbed. 

“ Good-morning, girls,” she said, “ I expected you a 
quarter of an hour ago, although it has n’t made much 
difference — my waiting for you. These laundresses are 
very trying. Mrs. Slattery is one of the best we have 
had, but now she thinks that she won’t do any more 
work this summer, because her son is home from Texas 
on a visit.” 

“ Why, mamma, of course you would n’t expect her to 
work. She ’ll want to go about on pleasure trips with 
him ; just think how it will be when Agnes comes home, 
or Caroline. I ’m sure that you could n’t half attend to 
them, if you had to do a week’s washing at the same time.” 

Mrs. Barlow and Julia both laughed at Brenda’s way 
of putting things. 

“ Still it does n’t alter the present case,” said Mrs. 
Barlow, “and if Mrs. Slattery is firm in her determina- 
tion, I shall have to send you girls out into the highways 
and byways to find a laundress. There are some little 
cottages up on the back road, and perhaps some one up 
there might condescend to take in washing.” 

At this moment a curve in the road brought them in 
full sight of the beach, which up to this minute had 
shown itself only occasionally behind houses and trees. 

“ How beautiful I ” cried Julia. “ This is a new point 


4 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


of view to me; how beautiful is the blue of the ocean 
on a day like this ! ” 

Nor could any one who stood in Julia’s place call her 
over-enthusiastic. The cloudless June sky gave the water 
the color of the deepest sapphire. Here and there the 
tip of a billow flashed in the sunlight like the facet of 
a cut gem. Far at the edge of the horizon two or three 
small sails sped along as with birds’ wings. The light- 
house in the distance, the little island with the fisherman’s 
hut, the small boats anchored off the point, all combined 
to make the scene a very beautiful one. 

“ Let me carry it,” cried Brenda, as the driver lifted 
a camp-chair from the carriage. 

“ Why, thank you, I suppose that I could let Thomas 
take it to the bath-house, but it is better for him not to 
leave the horses. If I had n’t worn a long skirt, I ’d carry 
it myself.” 

“ Oh, it ’s nothing to carry ! ” replied Brenda, and she 
trudged along, picking her way through the sand, with 
the chair under one arm, and a large silk handkerchief 
containing her bathing suit slung over the other. 

“We ’ll not be the only bathers on the beach,” and 
Julia pointed to a group already floundering in the water. 

“Oh, no, but there won’t be quarter as many as there 
will be in a fortnight. It will be a great deal more 
exciting then.” 

“Exciting,” for the time being, was Brenda’s favorite 
word for describing anything that she considered very 
amusing, and she used the word on all possible occasions. 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


5 


“ I ’ll sit here for a little while,” said Mrs. Barlow, 
pointing to the neighborhood of some rocks which cast 
just enough shadow to make the spot a desirable one for 
a seat. Here Brenda opened the little folding seat, and 
then went on with Julia toward the bath-house. 

“Have you the key?” asked Julia, as she pulled at the 
padlock which fastened the door. 

“Why, no, I thought that you would bring it.” 

“ How could you ? I did n’t know where it was. 
Besides, Aunt Anna said that you would bring it, that 
she had spoken to you about it after breakfast.” 

“ Then I must have entirely forgotten it ; truly I have 
never once thought of it to-day, until I saw you trying 
that lock. What shall I do? It will be awfully disap- 
pointing not to go in bathing, and we certainly can’t dress 
here on the beach. I wish that we had n’t sent Thomas 
home. I feel ready to cry.” 

“Oh, don’t cry. You are too old for that. Perhaps 
we could borrow a bath-house from one of those bathers, 
or — ” 

“No, I ’m afraid that there is n’t any chance. Do you 
know, Julia, I believe that I shall have to give up novel- 
reading. I was reading when mamma said something to 
me this morning. I suppose that it must have been 
something about the key. I said, ‘yes,’ but really I 
did not hear a word that she said. I was thinking 
entirely about the book. It ’s the most interesting thing 
I ever read.” 

“ So was the one you read the day before yesterday. At 


6 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


least you told us so. I have noticed that you have been in 
a brown study ever since this literary fit seized you. But 
that won’t help us about the key.” 

“ There is mamma waving her sunshade toward us. 
I suppose she sees what has happened. She always says 
that I am not to be trusted with keys. I wish you ’d go 
to her, Julia. I hate to have to explain.” 

Julia ran along the hot strip of sand that lay between 
her and Mrs. Barlow. In a few minutes she returned 
holding one hand above her head rather triumphantly. 

“ There, Brenda, it ’s all right. Aunt Anna found that 
she had the duplicate key in her chatelain bag. She called 
me to see if we needed it. She suspected that something 
was wrong when she saw us fumbling with the lock.” 

“ Good enough,” cried Brenda, “ I should have been 
terribly cross if we had had to turn back without our bath. 
Keys are a nuisance. Any way there are two separate 
rooms inside the bath-house, and we can both dress at the 
same time. I hate those little bath-houses where you have 
to stand about waiting your turn.” 

In a short time Julia and Brenda were ready for the 
plunge. Their dark-blue bathing suits were made alike, 
high-necked, with long-sleeved blouses, and skirts reach- 
ing below the knee, trimmed with rows and rows of fine 
white braid. 

Brenda dashed into the water without a second of hesi- 
tation, and almost immediately she began to swim. Julia 
looked at her in astonishment. She herself had been in 
the water only two or three times in her life. She not 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


7 


only had not learned to swim, but she was almost afraid 
to dip her head. 

“ Why, you are a perfect fish, Brenda, or a mermaid,” 
she cried, as he cousin swam past her, though consider- 
ably farther out at sea. “Aren’t you afraid?” 

“ Of course not.” Brenda flung a handful of water 
at Julia as she waded past. “Just try it yourself, and 
you ’ll see how easy it is.” 

“ Oh, I should n’t dare to,” said Julia. 

“Well, you ought to dip your head and shoulders, and 
come out as far as you can. I can see that you ’re shiver- 
ing a little, but you won’t after you have once been in all 
over.” 

So Julia at last made the plunge, and, dipping head 
and shoulders, really did feel more comfortable than 
when she had stood a few minutes before shivering in 
the sun. But she could not persuade herself to lie flat 
on her back, letting Brenda support her with one hand 
held under her chin. She felt a curious faintness when 
she even thought of doing this, and although Brenda 
assured her that she would not let her sink, that, even 
if she should let go, Julia could immediately put her feet 
to the bottom, the older girl showed a timidity surprising 
to Brenda, the younger. But they jested, and threw 
water at one another, until Mrs. Barlow called from the 
shore, telling them that they had already been in too long. 
Then Brenda, with a plea for one more swim, splashed 
about for a few minutes longer, while Julia sat down 
on the sand to wait for her in the sun. 


8 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“Well, Julia,” cried Brenda, as they left the bath-house 
a little later, “ I never expected to feel myself as superior 
to you as I did to-day. Why you really screamed with 
fright when I threatened you with a ducking ! ” There 
was good-humor in Brenda’s tone, in spite of her jeering, 
and Julia understood her. 

“ Well, I suppose I have never told you of my fear of 
water. You see I know so little about it. When Aunt 
Anna told me that she was having a bathing-suit made 
for me, I felt like asking, ‘What for?’ I thought then 
that I should be unlikely to use it. But I decided to- 
day not to let you know how I felt, but to go in as 
bravely as possible.” 

“ Yes,” replied Brenda, “ and in the course of a week or 
two, you will float and swim, and — ” 

“ Become a duck, just like you. No, I think not,” 
replied Julia. “By the end of the summer I may float, 
but I am willing to have you know that I am not a bit 
courageous. Ah ! here ’s Thomas,” she added, as a car- 
riage met them in the rather narrow road. 

“ Well, I ’m glad that mamma will not have to wait any 
longer. Of course we could ride home, too. But I thought 
it would be a good time to show you this road. There 
are such quantities of wild flowers.” 

“Yes,” said Julia, “to me it seems very surprising to 
see so many flowers close to the sea. Just look at those 
roses,” and she pointed to a stone wall, in front of which, 
and in the marshy field beyond, were quantities of wild 
roses. 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


9 


“ I remember once learning a poem called ‘ Wild Roses 
of Cape Ann,’” said Julia, “and I suppose that we are 
not so far away from Cape Ann, but that we could apply 
it here. I think that I can recall a few lines; — 

“ ‘ Their paling glories light Cape Ann’s waste shore, 

Bringing the presage of soft-lulling peace 
For summer’s orient days, and brief surcease 
Of wave and granite warring evermore.’ ” 

Then, picking a bunch, she added, — 

“ ‘ Rose, thou are the sweetest flower 
That ever drank the amber shower.’ 

“ Moore, who wrote the last, means any roses,” she con- 
cluded, “although he had no thought of Cape Ann.” 

“I never have such fine quotations to fit things,” 
said Brenda; “but I do love these wild roses. By and 
by, when they are gone, other flowers will come. The 
butter-and-eggs are beautiful, and there is a field over 
there that will soon be blue with purple irises, and then, 
of course, the goldenrod comes in the autumn. I have 
more love for wild flowers than you would expect in 
one of my frivolous disposition,” and she danced a few 
steps ahead of Julia. 

“ There ’s a better road than this. In fact I don’t see 
why Thomas drove down here. This is too sandy for 
a carriage or bicycle. After this, we ’ll go to the beach 
on our wheels. There — I believe I ’ll take a ride this 
afternoon. 


10 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“ It ’s a pity that your wheel has n’t come down yet, or 
you could ride with me, Julia,” and Brenda rattled on, 
evidently in the best of humor, as the result of her 
swim. 

“ I can’t say that I exactly crave a bicycle ride on a day 
like this,” answered Julia. 

“ Oh, by afternoon it will be cool. There is almost 
always a breeze, and I shall only go for a short ride 
about five o’clock. It has n’t been a very long walk, 
has it?” 

For they were now at the stone pillars that marked the 
front entrance to the grounds, and a minute or two later 
they were seated in wicker chairs fanning themselves, and 
resting after their exertions. The house was at the top of 
a hill which, if not really veiy high, made a rather sharp 
ascent from the surrounding country. 

“ It ’s a lovely view, even though we do have to work 
a little to get here,” said Julia. “ If there were nothing 
but the view, I should be perfectly happy. But from what 
every one says, I know that I am going to enjoy Rockley 
immensely.” 

The accent on the last word sounded a little more like 
Brenda than Julia, and it was a rather curious fact that 
the two cousins who in the first six months of their ac- 
quaintance had seemed so unlike had begun to modify 
each other a little. Julia’s speech had become slightly 
more frivolous, and Brenda had acquired what she had 
previously lacked, a more serious way of looking at things. 
By serious I do not mean solemn, and perhaps I ought 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


11 


rather to say she had begun to acquire the ability to look on 
both sides of a question. It is true that she did not view 
all matters in this all-round fashion; she often preferred 
to be a little perverse and contrary. But in her secret 
heart she was less proud than formerly, both of perverse- 
ness and obstinacy. 

Brenda was very fond of the sea-shore, where, as long as 
she could remember, she had been in the habit of spending 
at least five months of the year. But this was only her 
second season on the North Shore. Now if I should tell 
you the exact location of Rockley, you might respond that 
you know other places just as pretty, — at Beverly, at 
Manchester, at — but here I might interrupt you to say 
that just as patriotism obliges us to prefer our own coun- 
try to every other, so custom leads us to prefer some one 
place to any other. Some people, to be sure, enjoy ram- 
bling from country to country, and others like to have 
glimpses of various summer resorts ; but in the end each 
one thinks his own country the very best, and in her secret 
heart every girl believes some one spot — it may be sea- 
shore, it may be mountains — far lovelier than any other. 
Brenda, at first, had objected to leaving Cohasset ; but one 
season at Rockley had reconciled her to the change. Now 
she had gone to the other extreme, in regarding Rockley — 
as her father’s house was called — as the prettiest place on 
the coast. It is true that she always enjoyed visiting 
Edith Blair at Manchester, or Frances Pounder at Nahant, 
or some of her other friends who had homes at Beverly 
and Pride’s Crossing, and the other lovely spots along the 


12 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


North Shore. She had been interested in what Nora had 
told her of various mountain resorts, for Nora’s parents 
chose different places from season to season, and usually 
preferred the mountains to the seashore. But Brenda 
loved Rockley, for its nearness to the sea, for its sandy 
beach, for the great cliffs at the end of the beach, for 
the wild flowers that grew in such profusion along the 
roads. 

She was glad that her cousin had immediately expressed 
her admiration for Rockley, and already in anticipation she 
saw before her a very pleasant summer. 

‘‘ Edith can come up whenever we want her, that is, 
whenever her mother will let her, and Nora is to spend at 
least a fortnight with us. Really we shall have great fun. 
We ’d better have her over the Fourth for the races.” 

“The races?” Julia’s expression was one of inquiry. 

“ Yes, the yacht races. Not very large ones, you know; 
but Philip’s boat will be entered, and sometimes it ’s 
awfully close. I just love to see the boats going out of 
the harbor, and you will, too, I know. We must go over 
to Marblehead soon. Cousin Edward has a skipper on his 
boat all the time, and he said that I might go aboard when- 
ever I wanted to.” 

“But you know,” said Julia, with a smile, “that I shan’t 
have time for anything until the end of the month.” 

“Oh, yes, your old examinations. What a bother it 
must be, to spend time studying after school is over ! 
That ’s one thing that would keep me from going to 
college, if there were no other reason.” 


BRENDA'S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


13 


I do begrudge the time a little myself, just now, in this 
perfect weather. But in hardly more than two weeks it 
will all be over, and then I shall enjoy my holiday all the 
better.” 

“ Yes, but next year you will have to go through it all 
again. No ! college would n’t do for me,” cried Brenda, 
“I never want to think about a book after the first of 
June.” 

“Except a novel or two,” interposed Julia, mischiev- 
ously. 

“ Oh, well, of course, on hot days when you ’re resting, 
you have to read something entertaining, at least I do,” 
and, suiting the acting to the word, Brenda flung herself 
down in the easy-chair, and, picking up the paper-covered 
book, resumed her reading. 

“ Let me know when the luncheon-bell rings, I may not 
hear it,” she called to Julia as the latter passed through 
the screen door into the house. 

But although Julia did call her quarter of an hour later, 
Mrs. Barlow and she had been at the table for some time 
before Brenda came, summoned at last by a special 
message. 

“Really, mamma, I forgot. At least I was so inter- 
ested in my book that I could n’t leave it. I had to wait 
until I came to a stopping-place.” 

“ I ’m afraid that I shall have to make a stopping-place 
for your reading, Brenda, if it is to interfere so with your 
duties. I must look at your book, and see what makes it 
so absorbing.” 


14 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“ Oh, mamma, I don’t believe that you would care for 
it.” 

“ I dare say that I should find it a little less absorbing 
than you do, but still I shall look it over.” 

“ Oh, of course, if you want to,” said Brenda, and there 
was a trace of sulkiness in her tone. 


II 


A MISTAKE 

Brenda had been out on her wheel for nearly an hour. 
She had had a pleasant ride, first, along the road skirting 
the ocean, and later, over the main highway. She had 
now turned into the “back road” so-called, although it 
was not perfectly clear why the name had been given. It 
was used more or less by teamsters who wished to avoid 
the main thoroughfare, along which the electric cars passed. 
The back road was only a little farther from the beach 
than the ridge of land on which Mr. Barlow and other 
summer residents had built their houses. 

But the little cottages located here and there along the 
back road had no view of the water, they had few trees 
about them, and they were of a rather unattractive style 
of architecture. Brenda had noticed these little houses 
the first summer of her stay at Rockley. But she had 
never been at all curious about the people who lived in 
them. She knew that a dressmaker whom her mother 
sometimes employed lived in one of them, and she had 
heard that a son of Mrs. Blair’s gardener — a rather supe- 
rior machinist — lived in another. He had an important 
position in a factory that was not so very far away. 

Brenda rode slowly along the narrow foot-path at the 
side of the road. The middle was too sandy for comfort. 


16 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


but, to her surprise, she found that she was making little 
progress on the path. In spite of her effort to go rapidly, 
she found herself proceeding slowly. She felt her tire 
flattening, she heard the wooden rim rubbing on the 
ground, — and then she jumped off. 

The glance which she gave that treacherous hind wheel 
was not necessary to assure her that the air had escaped 
from the valve. 

“ It ’s a new tire ; it ought n’t to act this way,” she 
thought as she bent over it. “ Thomas pumped it up for 
me just before I started.” Then, with a smile, “But I 
screwed the cap on, and that ’s where the trouble is. If 
I had my pump with me, I could fix it in a minute. Well, 
it won’t hurt me to walk home,” and she stood the wheel 
against a fence while she paused to consider the situa- 
tion. At this moment a girl near her own age crossed 
from the opposite side, walking from the direction of the 
village, 

“ I can get a foot-pump,” she said politely ; “ we have 
one in the house, and I see that your tire is flat.” 

How just at this moment Brenda’s eye happened to 
light on the garden before which she stood, and she saw 
two or three lines hung with spotlessly clean clothes. 
Among the garments was a white skirt and waist, and 
Brenda noticed that they were embroidered, and belonged 
evidently to some young girl. This reminded her of her 
mother’s need of a laundress, and immediately, without 
replying to the suggestion about the bicycle pump, she 
turned to the young girl. 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


17 


“ Do you know who washed those clothes ? ” she asked 
rather abruptly. 

“ Yes, I do,” replied the girl. 

“ Then I wish you would tell me,” continued Brenda, 
“it would oblige me very much. She must be a good 
laundress.” 

The other girl looked intently at Brenda, as if to make 
out her purpose in asking the question. Then, after a 
second of hesitation, she answered without any circumlo- 
cution : “ My mother washed those things. She ought to 
be a good laundress.” 

Her tone might have meant either, “ Whatever my 
mother does, she does well,” or, “ My mother has had so 
much experience that she can’t help being a good 
laundress.” 

Brenda interpreted it in the latter way. 

“Then I wonder,” she said, with some animation, “if 
she would do some washing for us. You see it is so very 
hard to get any one who is regular, and my mother has 
had so much trouble with Mrs. Slattery, and — ” 

The other girl interrupted her. 

“You misunderstood me. My mother is n’t a laundress. 
She just happened to wash those clothes because we are 
without a girl at present, and we can’t find a washwoman, 
— at least not at reasonable prices,” she concluded in an 
undertone. “They all want to work by the day for the 
summer people.” 

“ Oh, I ’m very sorry,” Brenda stood there in consider- 
able confusion, she was often thoughtless, but it seemed to 

2 


18 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


her that she had been worse than thoughtless in asking so 
pointed a question of a stranger. She looked a second 
time at the girl, and decided that, although she wore an 
inexpensive, and rather dowdy cotton gown, she had an 
air of unmistakable refinement. Her hair was parted very 
carefully, and plaited in a long braid that reached nearly 
to her waist. It was fastened with a pale pink ribbon, as 
Brenda noticed when she turned to look at her wheel, and 
the ribbon in color and style matched the ribbon that was 
tied in a bow beneath her narrow linen collar. 

“ Why should you be sorry ? ’’ asked the girl, in rather 
a matter-of-fact tone. 

“ Why, I ought n’t to have — ” 

“ Why, there was n’t the least harm in your asking the 
question,^’ she interrupted. “ If I could have chosen, per- 
haps I would rather not have told you who washed the 
clothes. But of course you can understand that my 
mother is n’t a professional laundress. I was obliged to 
answer the question that you asked truthfully, and so 
I think that I ought to prevent your having any further 
misunderstanding.” 

“ If I had been you,” said Brenda, “ I don’t believe that 
I would have answered the question.” 

“ Why not ? ” said the girl. 

“ It was really no concern of mine. You must think me 
very rude.” 

“ Oh, no, I am not so foolish. You meant well in ask- 
ing, or at least you meant no harm.” 

The young girl spoke in a serious, or almost solemn 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


19 


fashion. Moreover, there was a little air of patronage in 
her tone that was novel to Brenda. In spite of the girl’s 
words, Brenda felt that she did consider the question a 
rudeness, and she found herself in the unusual position 
of wishing to apologize still further. 

“ I will get the pump for you,” said the other girl, “ if 
you will excuse me for a minute.” 

Had she been the hostess at a party, her manner could 
hardly have been more polite and formal. Left alone for a 
moment, Brenda looked with considerable interest at the 
house into which the other girl had just gone. It was 
of the same homely style as several other houses along 
the road. They had evidently been built at about the 
same time. They stood with an end to the street, with 
no bay windows or piazzas to soften their plain outlines. 
They were all painted a rather dingy brown, and in pass- 
ing, Brenda had noticed that one or two of them seemed 
rather the worse for wear, with an outside window-blind 
missing here and there, or a pane of glass broken, or with 
a few palings broken from the fence. But the house where 
the strange girl lived was different from the others in 
several respects. Although it was of the same dingy 
brown as the others, the front door had evidently had a 
recent coat of paint of dark-green. This, with a brass 
knocker, made it look quite like a city door. The window- 
blinds, too, had been freshly painted dark-green, and so 
had the narrow strip of fence running across the front. 
Moreover, the little bit of lawn about the house was closely 
cut, and at one side there was a small circular bed, filled 


20 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


with scarlet geraniums and nasturtiums. There were strips 
of muslin over the narrow glass windows at each side 
of the front door, and muslin blinds at the other front 
windows. Brenda might not herself have been able to 
give quite so accurate a description of the house as I have 
given. But she received a very definite impression that 
the people who lived in it must be rather superior to their 
neighbors from the fact that they had taken so much 
trouble to make their dwelling neat and attractive. 

“ Here is the pump, Miss — ” the strange girl had 
returned. 

“ Oh, Brenda ; every one calls me Brenda.” 

“Well, my name is Amy,” said the other girl; “let me 
pump that tire for you.” 

“ Oh, thank you,” and Brenda held the cap of the valve 
in her hand, while the other girl stooped over, and attach- 
ing the pump, worked it with considerable force. 

The operation was not a long one, and the wheel was 
soon ready for use. 

“ I hope that we shall meet again,” said Brenda politely, 
before mounting to the saddle. 

“Why, yes,” said Amy, without much cordiality, “I 
hope so.” 

“ I live just over there on the hill,” continued Brenda, 
“ I should be glad to have you come to see me some time.” 

“We have nothing to do with the summer residents,” 
said Amy. 

Brenda felt snubbed. It was unusual for any one to 
slight an invitation of hers. 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


21 


“Well, I’m very much obliged to you for helping me 
out of my trouble,” she added. “It ’s really pleasanter to 
ride home than to walk.” 

“I am sure you were very welcome,” said the other 
girl, then, as Brenda started off, waving her hand in 
good-bye. 

“ I ’m very sorry,” she cried, “ that I could n’t help you 
about a laundress.” 

Was there a shade of mischief in this speech, or did 
Brenda only imagine it? 

At dinner that evening Brenda had a long account to 
give of her adventure. 

“Really,” said Mrs. Barlow, “from what you say of this 
girl, I should think that you could have told at once that 
she was not the daughter of a laundress. You are alto- 
gether too heedless.” 

“Yes,” said Mr. Barlow, “you should look before you 
leap.” 

“ But I did n’t leap, papa, I just slid off my wheel when 
I found that that old tire had given out.” 

“It was rather a leap in the dark, I think, when you 
asked a strange girl of whom you knew nothing if her 
mother would take in washing.” 

“Yes, that is so, papa, for if I had looked first at the 
house, I should have known that the people who lived 
there were not exactly ordinary people. Really, it was so 
neat that it looked like — well, no, not like a city house. 
But it certainly was much better looking than the other 
houses along the road.” 


22 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“ Well, I only hope that you did n’t hurt the young 
girl’s feelings.” 

“Oh, I hope not, mamma, although she had the most 
stand-off kind of a manner. I really can’t describe it. But 
then, mamma, you ought not to say anything, for if I 
had n’t been thinking of what you said about looking for 
a laundress on the back road, I probably would n’t have 
spoken as I did. Just as soon as I saw those clothes, 
I thought of what you said.” 

“I must say,” replied Mrs. Barlow, “that most of 
the people who live up in that neighborhood are work- 
ing people. I hardly see why any one should live 
tiiere who was not employed by the summer residents. 
I wonder why the family of your interesting girl should 
live there. There ’s no view, and it ’s not near the 
water.” 

“I wonder, too,” said Brenda, “and I should like to 
know when I am likely to see her again.” 

“According to your own account, she did not seem 
particularly anxious to renew the acquaintance,” remarked 
Mr. Barlow. Brenda had not spared herself in telling the 
story. 

“ Oh, I ’ll be sure to see her somewhere before the sum- 
mer is over. If she does n’t come my way, I 'll look her 
up, even though it will be somewhat like bearding the lion 
in his den.” 

“ A case of love at first sight,” said Julia. 

“ Almost, but not exactly. I simply want to know more 
about her.” 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


23 


“ You generally get what you want, Brenda, and we 
shall expect soon to hear a full account of this — what did 
you say her name was ? ” 

“ Amy, papa.” 

Nevertheless, more than a week of June days passed 
before Brenda saw Amy again, and then it was only 
a passing glimpse, as she rode along the road in front 
of the house. As she looked, she was quite sure that 
it was Amy whom she saw tying up a vine in the back 
yard. 

“ It would n’t have . hurt her to come forward to speak 
to me. I don’t suppose a great many persons pass this 
way,” said Brenda under her breath, and she increased 
her speed, as she turned off into the main road. 

But the next week or two brought so many things to 
Brenda that she had little time to think about the unre- 
sponsive Amy. In the first place, there came the seven- 
teenth, and with it a small house-party of older people 
whom Mr. and Mrs. Barlow had invited. Nobody needs 
to be reminded that the seventeenth of June is the anni- 
versary of the Battle of Bunker Hill, and although it is 
only in the neighborhood of Boston that it is celebrated, 
still it is a holiday that is highly appreciated by people in 
offices or business, because it affords a day of recreation in 
the first hot weather. As the small yachts and catboats 
at Marblehead generally go first into commission on the 
seventeenth, Mr. Barlow’s cousin Edward, who was one of 
the guests at Rockley, invited not only the older people, 
but the girls, to* take a sail on his yacht. 


24 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“It will be great fun, won’t it ?”^ cried Brenda, as she 
and Julia sat in their favorite corner of the piazza. 

“Ye-es,” said Julia, with some hesitation, “I suppose 
so.” 

“Well, I must say that you are not very enthusiastic. 
It ’s a perfectly beautiful yacht ; it takes two men to run 
it, besides cousin Edward. Of course it is n’t one of the 
largest. It ’s meant for racing, but I can tell you that it 
flies like — like lightning when there ’s a stiff breeze.” (In 
summer Brenda prided herself on her nautical terms.) 

“ It ’s very kind, of course, in cousin Edward to ask me, 
but I ’ve just been telling him that I think that I won’t 
go.” 

“ Why, Julia, what an idea ! Why not? ” 

“For one thing I shouldn’t be any addition to the 
party. I ’m sure to be sea-sick.” 

“ Oh, it won’t be rough, and besides we ’ll not go out 
very far.” 

“ That would n’t make any difference to me. I should 
be uncomfortable myself, and probably make the rest of 
you uncomfortable.” 

“ The sooner you get used to sailing, the better, Julia. 
We ’re always going somewhere on a boat.” 

Julia sighed an audible sigh. 

“ Besides, I ought to study to-day. In the next ten days 
I must review all my Ciesar and Virgil, and work out any 
number of test problems in algebra, and — ” 

“ There, that ’s what I ’ve always said. It ’s simply 
wicked to have any work to do after school is over. It ’s 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


25 


bad enough for boys to take college examinations, but girls, 
— just think how much more fun you could have, Julia, 
if you hadn’t made up your mind to go to College.” 

Julia laughed at Brenda’s plaintive expression. “The 
fun, to-day, begging the pardon of cousin Edward and his 
guests, is something that I can miss without feeling that 
I am losing much. I ’ll work up to it perhaps in the course 
of the summer. But really I would rather begin with 
a row-boat on a mill-pond, if we can find one about here.” 

“ You are certainly silly,” responded Brenda. “ Do 
come to-day, we may not have the chance soon again. 
Generally when cousin Edward goes he won’t take girls. 
He prefers men who can look after themselves.” 

But Julia was firm, and in spite of the urging of her 
aunt and cousin Edward himself, she saw them set off in 
the carriages that were to take them all to Marblehead, 
while she herself turned back contentedly to her work. 

In little more than ten days she was to go to Cam- 
bridge to take her first examinations for College — the 
preliminaries — which are held before so many boys 
and girls as a goal which they must not fail to reach 
successfully. A year later would come the “ finals,” and 
then in the autumn following Julia hoped to register as 
a student of Radcliffe College. But everything depended 
on the examinations, and she knew that she must not 
relax her efforts until the last day. In preparing at a 
private school she was under certain disadvantages. Some 
time intervened between the closing of school and the 
examination, and Julia felt that the daily study by herself 


26 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


was barely enough to keep the subjects fresh in her mind. 
Until the end of June she must adhere to regular hours 
of daily study. After the examination, her real vacation 
would begin. 

Thus Julia sat down very contentedly, re-reading care- 
fully, and as quickly as she could, the story of unhappy 
Dido, the work that she had accomplished, and her melan- 
choly fate. The two hours passed quickly away, and after 
she had practised for an hour, she heard with surprise the 
voices of the returning yachting-party. 

“Still at it?” called Brenda, as the carriage drove up. 
“ You must be wonderfully wise.” 

“ Oh, I ’m not studying now,” responded her cousin. 
“ That was over long ago.” 

“ Well, you would have been perfectly safe if you had 
gone with us to-day. There was n’t a ripple on the water. 
It was just the kind of mill-pond you would like. Papa 
and cousin Edward have stayed down there to see if they 
can whistle up a breeze. But the rest of us thought that 
we had better come home. I saw Philip at the Club-house, 
and he said that Edith intended to drive over this after- 
noon, and I want to see her to talk over some plans.” 

“ I did n’t really think that you would return for 
luncheon, although Aunt Anna said that you might, but 
I believe that it is ready.” 

The dining-room was delightfully cool in contrast with 
the warmer outside piazzas, and as they all sat around the 
long table, Mrs. Barlow gave a sigh of relief. 

“ After all, there ’s no place like home.” 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLET 


27 


‘‘ Why, mamma, that sounds as if you had n’t a good 
time to-day.” 

“Well, Brenda, I am not as young as you are, and the 
drive over and the drive back were rather warm. Besides 
I ’m not over-fond of going out in little boats, and climb- 
ing up the sides of yachts, are you?” and she turned to 
one of her guests for an answer. 

“ On the whole it was very pleasant, Mrs. Barlow.” 

“ Well, yes, perhaps on the whole. But still — ” 

“Oh, but, mamma, I always enjoy every minute at 
Marblehead. We would n’t have minded the sun to-day, 
if only there had been a chance for a sail. I don’t see why 
the breeze died down.” 

“ Persons addicted to yachting often ask that question,” 
replied her mother, “and very seldom are they able to 
answer it.” 


Ill 


NEW ACQUAINTANCES 

It was a hot, hot day, and Brenda wandered around 
the house discontentedly. 

“ I wish that I had gone back to Beverly with Edith 
yesterday. I ’m sure that it must be cooler there. It 
certainly could not be any hotter. I don’t envy Julia in 
Cambridge, it must be even worse there.” 

Julia had gone to Cambridge to board for a week. She 
and Ruth were to have a special tutor for a few days 
before the examinations. Brenda, without her cousin, 
felt particularly restless. In the immediate vicinity of 
Rockley there were few girls of her own age, and she 
missed the companionship of Julia, even though their 
tastes and inclinations were not always the same. 

“If you had more to do, Brenda,” said her mother, 
“you would be less discontented. I am sorry now that 
I had not arranged for music lessons for you this summer. 
Regular practising would keep you from thinking about 
the heat.” 

“As if I could sit at the piano on a day like this! 
How can you suggest such a thing, mamma?” 

Brenda did not appear as miserable as her words and 
tone intimated. 


BRENDANS SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


29 


She wore a cool-looking muslin gown, girt at the waist 
with a blue silk belt. Bands of insertion around the neck 
made it look particularly cool, and the soft folds in which 
the skirt hung gave it a very uncrushable and comfortable 
appearance. 

“It ’s almost 90°, ” she said, looking at the thermometer. 
“ Oh, dear, if it were not so hot I ’d go down to the beach. 
If I were once there, I ’m sure that I should be more com- 
fortable. It would be shady over by the rocks. At any 
rate, it could n’t be as hot as it is here.” 

“If you really wish to go,” said Mrs. Barlow, “Thomas 
may drive you down. It won’t hurt the gray horse to be 
driven down slowly, and I think myself that you will find 
it a little more comfortable there.” 

“ Then I ’ll take a book or two, and stay until dinner- 
time.” 

“ Yes, and if you do not take a thermometer with you, 
I believe that you may forget the heat. I think that you 
have worked yourself up a little to-day watching the 
mercury.” 

So Brenda, with an armful of books, drove down to the 
beach, and placing her camp-chair in a sheltered nook 
under the shadow of the rocks, began to read. But in a 
short time she tired of her book. It was the fifth or sixth 
novel by the same author that she had read since leaving 
the city. All the others she had pronounced “perfectly 
splendid,” and perhaps if she had read the volume in her 
hand as the first of the series, it might have pleased her as 
well. But now it seemed to her like a feeble echo of the 


30 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


others, and it in some way had not the power to hold her 
attention. At last she flung it from her with a sigh. “ I 
did not know that ‘ The Countess ’ could be so uninterest- 
ing. This book is really dull.” As she sat there gazing 
out at sea, she heard the murmur of voices. She realized 
at once that some one else had come to the rocks to escape 
the heat. Then as she began to listen more intently she 
knew that the speakers were not far away. “ Why, they 
must be in the hollow just on the other side of this rock. 
I wish I had thought of going there myself — but then 
they must have been there before me. Somebody seems 
to be reciting something. I wonder who it is ; it ’s a girl, 
I ’m almost sure.” 

There was something unaccountably familiar in the 
voice, yet try as she would, Brenda could not decide to 
whom it belonged. She listened to the words. They were 
evidently verse. Now Brenda, unfortunately, was not 
one of those who care for poetry. But in spite of herself 
she listened. The words were quaint, and hard to under- 
stand, but in a minute or two she became interested in 
the story, which was about a lovely lady who seemed to 
be wandering in a forest in search of somebody. At 
length she met a lion, that, “ With gaping mouth at her 
ran greedily.” Brenda was now sufficiently interested to 
wonder if he would kill her. But she had not long to 
wait, when she heard 

“ Instead thereof, he kist her wearie feet, 

And lickt her lily hands with fawning tongue,” 

and she was relieved at last to hear that 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


31 


“ The lion would not leave her desolate, 

But with her went along as a strong guard 
Of her chast person, and a faithful mate 
Of her sad troubles and misfortunes hard.” 

I do not mean that Brenda could have repeated these lines 
after once hearing them, but certainly they made more 
impression on her than poetry did generally. Before the 
story had come to what the writer of fiction might call a 
climax, a voice that sounded much younger than that of 
the reader broke in on the poetry — 

“Of course you don’t really believe that yourself, 
honest now. 1 can tell you that I don’t believe a lion 
ever did like that just because a girl was pretty. Why, 
he ’d be sure to eat her up all the quicker. Don’t you 
think so ? ” 

“No, I can’t say that I do.” 

“ You see, it ’s like this. If she was real ugly the lion 
might be afraid of her for fear she ’d hurt him. Almost 
any one would be afraid of an ugly person; but if she 
looked kind of nice and gentle, why he ’d soon eat her, 
because he ’d know that she would taste well.” 

“ Oh, Fritz, you are so practical. I really thought that 
you would like this.” 

“ I do, yes, I do, but I like ‘ The Lays ’ better. Hora- 
tius, now, he was alive, was n’t he? and Henry of Navarre. 
But you must n’t look so glum ; you can’t expect a fellow 
to like stories about a faery queen as well as he would 
battles and things like that.” 

“Yes, but there are battles in here; why I have to skip 


32 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


some of them, they are so bloody. If you like, I ’ll read 
you some of those cantos.” 

“Well, I don’t know that I care about it to-day,” 
replied the boy. “You see it’s pretty hot; not but that 
I ’m very much obliged to you for what you ’ve read ; 
it ’s so tiresome that I can’t use my own eyes. Gracious, 
what ’s that?” he asked, as a paper-covered book fell at 
his feet. Now Brenda — who had been listening with 
interest to the conversation, because she had recognized in 
the girl her new acquaintance Amy — Brenda had in- 
cautiously held her book over the edge of the rock where 
she sat, and by a careless movement she had pushed it 
over the edge. 

“Dear me! ” she heard Amy say, “a book does n’t fall 
unless it belongs to some one near by. I ’d rather not 
stay here, Fritz, if we are to be interrupted.” 

“Oh, it ’s some one up above there,” cried Fritz, then, 
with a boy’s impetuosity, — 

“Say, you, whoever you are, you ’d better come down; 
we don’t like eavesdroppers.” 

“Hush, Fritz,” said Amy; “others have as good a 
right as we to be here.” 

Brenda, greatly annoyed at herself for dropping the book, 
began to descend the rocks to pick it up. She had to go 
by the path by which she had reached the top, and then 
by walking around at the base she reached the other side. 

Just as she expected, she found the girl who had been 
reading to be Amy. Her companion was a little taller, 
and apparently about a year older. He wore a bandage 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


33 


over one eye, and the unbandaged eye was very red 
around the lids. Yet in spite of this he looked by no 
means like an invalid. He had a sturdy frame, his cheeks 
were full and round, and he had thick, wavy, dark brown 
hair. 

Without a word of special greeting, Amy, who had 
been turning over the leaves of the book, handed it to 
Brenda. 

“ Oh, it ’s yours! ” she exclaimed, with an accent on the 
last word that seemed to Brenda to indicate more or less 
surprise. 

“What is the name of the book? Who wrote it?” 
cried the boy, who, like most boys of sixteen, was of a 
curious disposition. 

The Countess,’ ” replied Amy, with an accent of 
scorn. “It ’s trash, is n’t it? ” and she turned to Brenda 
for confirmation. 

“No, I don’t think so,” replied the latter; “I enjoy all 
her books. I ’ve read almost all she ’s written.” 

“Well, you must be fond of trash! ” 

“No, I’m not; it does n’t seem to me any more trash 
than what I heard you reading; that sounded very silly.” 
Brenda would not have admitted now that she had been 
really interested in the poetry. 

“ ‘ The Faery Queen ! ’ ” Amy gazed at Brenda in 
amazement. “ Why, it ’s the finest poetry there is ; why 
I ’ve read about Una and her lion over and over again. 
Yes, it ’s the very best poetry, and poetry is always better 
than novels.” 


3 


34 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“ Oh, come now, Amy, I would n’t call it the very best 
poetry in the world,” said Fritz. “There’s Macaulay, 
and some of Longfellow, — the ‘ Sagas of King Olaf, ’ — 
well, there are ever so many things that seem to me to be 
more amusing ; yes, and some things by Saxe, — 

“ ‘ There were three men of Hindostan to learning much inclined, 
Who went to see the elephant, though all of them were blind,’ 

You see I feel something like those blind men, that ’s why 
the poem suits me.” 

“You’re not blind, are you?” asked Brenda, sym- 
pathetically. Remembering things that her mother had 
frequently said about the novels of “ The Countess, ” she 
was willing for the present to let the talk slip a little 
farther away from a discussion of the merits of different 
authors. 

“No, I ’m not blind, though I might as well be,” replied 
the boy. “I had a beastly cut on the eye by a baseball; 
it ’s got to be tied up for ten days longer, — did n’t the 
doctor say ten days, Amy?” 

“Yes, he did, but you’ll be as well as ever by the 
Fourth of July; that’s one good thing.” 

“Yes,” responded the boy; “but I don’t know what I 
could have done without you, Amy; you ’ve been a regu- 
lar brick.” 

“I have n’t done any more' than I ought to.” 

“Oh, yes, you have.” Then looking up, and realizing 
that Brenda was decidedly an outsider in this conversation 
between him and Amy, he turned to her politely. “You 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


35 


see we have never decided whose fault it was that the ball 
struck me.” 

“Well, I should think that it was the fault of the person 
who threw the ball.” 

“ That ’s what I say,” said Amy; “but Fritz — ” 

“Nobody can understand about anything without hear- 
ing the whole story. Amy was standing on a hill just 
back of the house, tossing the ball up and down. I called 
to her to throw it to me, and she did;” then, with a 
laugh, “ of course I did n’t mean to have her hit me in the 
eye. But a girl never can throw a ball straight,” and he 
looked at Amy affectionately. 

“Is it a bad cut? ” asked Brenda. 

“ Oh, the doctor had to take several stitches, and that 
wasn’t very pleasant, and it all swelled up so that I 
haven’t been able to use the eye for a month. If it 
was n’t for Amy I don’t know what I ’d do. Sometimes I 
can’t see to walk straight. To-day I had to lean on your 
arm most of the way, did n’t I ? ” 

Without waiting for Amy’s reply, Brenda broke in, 
“Why, you didn’t walk down here in the heat, did 
you?” 

“Oh, yes, of course; we always do.” 

“But to-day was so hot.” 

“Oh, we only walked a little slower. It was hard for 
you, though, Amy, leading a blind man along; I heard 
you panting.” 

Brenda began to reflect that her own lot was not quite 
so unhappy as it might have been. At least, she would 


36 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


have considered it pretty hard if she had had to walk to 
the beach, and Amy lived still farther away. 

Brenda had a moment of reflection. Her hour on the 
rocks had made her very comfortable. She no longer felt 
hot. The air, of course, had become cooler, a very little 
cooler, but the sun was still pretty bright. 

“It would have killed me to walk down,” said Brenda, 
“and it isn’t much cooler now. You must let me drive 
you home; you will, won’t you?” and she looked rather 
eagerly at Amy. She had already discovered that Amy 
was a rather positive young person. She felt that if she 
disapproved of a thing, she would not hesitate to say so. 

“We ’re very much obliged,” replied Amy; “but really 
we would just as soon walk. It is n’t so very far.” 

Fritz was sitting near Amy, and Brenda could see that 
he gave her arm a little pinch. 

“But you might just as well ride,” continued Brenda; 
“there’ll be two empty seats in the carriage, and we 
might have time for a little drive.” Amy’s face began to 
show signs of relenting. 

“ Oh, you might say ‘ yes,’ Amy,” cried Fritz. 

“Well, if you really would like it. Did you get tired 
coming down? ” 

“Of course I did. Didn’t you notice how I leaned on 
you.” 

Amy then turned politely to Brenda. 

“I would just as soon walk back myself. But I don’t 
like to refuse anything that would make Fritz more 
comfortable.” 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


37 


If she had been the grandmother of Fritz she could not 
have spoken in a more parental tone, and yet she was 
really a year his junior. 

Brenda had already decided that Fritz was not the 
brother of Amy, and she wondered a little why the latter 
spoke in such a tone of authority regarding him. As if 
reading her thoughts, Fritz himself began an explanation. 

“You see, Amy feels as if she must look after me 
because I have n’t any one else. My uncle is always so 
wrapped up in his books. Sometimes he really seems to 
forget all about me. It ’s not very far from our house to 
where Amy lives, and she comes over every day — when 
I can’t go to her; and she reads to me, or takes me for a 
walk, and she ’s just awfully good.” 

Amy blushed a little under this commendation. 

“Well, it’s a great thing for me to have you, Fritz; 
you ’re more company than any one I know. Is that your 
carriage?” and Brenda nodded assent as she saw the old 
gray horse and Thomas and the carryall turning from the 
road upon the upper end of the beach. 

“Don’t forget your book,” cried Amy, with what 
Brenda thought a shade of contempt, as she pointed to 
the rocks which they had just left. Brenda turned back, 
and picked up the paper-covered book which a little while 
before had almost caused a quarrel between her and Amy 
— that is, if a quarrel could be considered a possible thing 
between such new acquaintances. 

“May I ride in front?” asked Fritz, rather eagerly, as 
the carriage approached. 


38 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“Why, certainly;” and in spite of his bandaged eye, 
Fritz saw his way clearly enough to jump over the wheel 
into the carriage. 

“ Drive along to the Point, Thomas, we have time for 
that,” and Brenda glanced at her little chatelain watch. 
“We need not be home until half -past six.” 

“Oh, excuse me,” cried Amy; “I have to be home by 
half -past five; I really ought to be.” 

“Well, if we were to drive directly there you ’d hardly 
be there by that time. Couldn’t you just take a little 
drive ? ” 

“I wish that I could,” said Amy; “but really I have 
— have things to do.” 

“Oh, well, of course if you must go home you must,” 
responded Brenda, and she reluctantly gave Thomas the 
order to drive up the hill to the back road. 

“I could just as well walk home,” said Amy, as 
the carriage turned about; “then you and Fritz could 
drive.” 

“Oh, no, indeed,” exclaimed Fritz, “I wouldn’t think 
of driving without you ; but it ’s fine to have this much 
of a drive, and I ’m thankful not to be obliged to walk 
home. I ’m not as fond of exercise in hot weather as 
Amy is.” 

At last they drove up in front of the little house which 
Brenda remembered so well. 

“Stop here,” she called to Thomas, who apparently 
thought that Brenda had meant some other house than 
this as her destination. 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT HOCKLEY 


39 


“Thank you very much,” said Amy, as she jumped 
out, and then assisted Fritz. 

“I ’m going to have tea with Amy,” explained the boy. 
“This has been a jolly drive, even if it was a little short,” 
turning to Brenda, “and I hope that we ’ll see you again.” 

“Yes, indeed,” said Amy, holding out her hand in 
good-bye. Brenda, however, could not help noticing that 
she did not ask her to call on her. 

She felt rather triumphant, therefore, on getting out of 
the carriage at her own door to find that Amy had left 
her book. 

“There,” thought Brenda, “either I must take this to 
her or she will have to call here and get it. I ’ll wait a 
few days to see which she does.” 

She looked at the book with considerable interest. It 
was a school edition of “The Faery Queen,” or, as it was 
labelled on the back “‘ The Faery Queen,’ by Edmund 
Spenser, Books I. and II.” 


AN ACCIDENT 


For some days, however, the “ Faery Queen ” rested 
undisturbed on the table in Brenda’s room, as all at 
once she found herself plunging into a round of gayety. 
First of all came an invitation from Edith for a few days 
at Manchester, and during her stay she was invited to 
a luncheon party that was decidedly in the order of a 
grown-up affair, and Edith herself gave a small afternoon 
tea, and among her guests were some of the older girls 
who were already out. Then, on her return from Edith’s, 
Brenda found a note from Nora, accepting her invitation 
to visit, and saying that she would arrive on Thursday 
afternoon. 

As it was Wednesday when the note arrived, this might 
have seemed very short notice had it not been understood 
before the girls left town that Nora was to come to Brenda 
the last week in June. Moreover, on looking at the note, 
Brenda saw that it was dated two or three days earlier 
than the postmark, and she judged correctly that some one 
had been carrying it about carelessly for a day or two. 
Julia was still in Cambridge when Nora arrived. “Poor 
thing!” cried Nora, as Brenda ran upstairs with her to 
show her her room, — “ Poor thing ! studying and taking 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


41 


examinations this hot weather. Do you know, I think 
that that is what prevents my going to College! If I 
could only get in without examinations, or if they would 
have them in December instead of June.” 

“At Christmas time! why, Nora, just think how it 
would interfere with everything!” 

“Well, it would n’t interfere with any of your doings, 
Brenda Barlow, as you are not intending to go to 
College.” 

“Ah, you wouldn’t like it yourself, Nora,” and thus 
the girls talked over all the happenings of the past month. 
For although it was little more than four weeks since they 
had last seen each other, they both said that it had seemed 
“a perfect age,” and they chattered so fast that it was 
indeed a wonder that either one of them could understand 
what was said. 

“Still it ’s only a month, or a little more than a month, 
since the Shiloh picnic,” said Norah, as they sat there 
talking. 

“Well, it seems ever so much longer. I wish that we 
could have a picnic down here. We must plan lots of 
things while you stay. There has n’t been much going on 
this month, because people have been later than usual 
coming down ; but by the Fourth every one will be here. 
Cousin Edward will be sure to take us out on his yacht. 
I told you about the Seventeenth, did n’t I — in my 
letter? ” 

“Oh, yes; it must have been great fun.” 

“Ah, here ’s a note from Frances! ” exclaimed Brenda, 


42 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


as the two girls passed on into her room. She took 
up the square, blue envelope with its splashing writ- 
ing, and turned it over in her hand, after the fashion 
of girls before opening. “ I wonder what she ’s writing 
about! ” 

Then, as she opened and read the note, “There, she 
wants us to come over to-morrow and spend the day. She 
says that Edith is coming up from Beverly, and she wrote 
her that you would be with me. Would you like to 
go?” 

“Why, yes,” said Nora; “although I won’t pretend 
that I am crazy to see Frances.” 

“Belle is staying with her,” added Brenda, as she read 
the note to its close. 

“Don’t you suppose that that is why she asks you to 
come now. She knows that Julia is not here, and of 
course she would rather not ask her.” 

“ I dare say. They certainly are not calculated to get 
on very well together.” 

“Oh, Julia could get on with any one, although I don’t 
really suppose that she cares much for Belle. She has 
always been very careful what she says in speaking about 
her. I wish that I were as prudent, but I generally speak 
out before I think.” 

Now it was really a step forward for Brenda to admit 
that she would like to resemble any one else, and Nora, 
observing this change in her, wisely did not call her 
friend’s attention to the fact that she had observed it. 
She was never quite sure when Brenda’s contrary spirit 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


43 


might break forth, and she felt that she would like the 
new Brenda to remain as she was for a time. 

“You don’t object to spending the day with Frances 
while Belle is there, do you?” continued Brenda. 

“Why, of course not. I like Frances and Belle very 
well at times. I did not really like the way Belle 
behaved last winter, and I don’t believe that I ’ll ever be 
as intimate with her again. You see, Julia and Ruth 
have come to take her place, to a great extent. But I am 
sure that we can have a very jolly day at Nahant.” 

Now the real state of things the past winter had been 
this: Brenda’s cousin Julia had come to Boston after the 
death of her father, to live with Brenda’s parents, — her 
uncle and aunt. 

As the two girls were near of an age, Mr. and Mrs. 
Barlow had expected them to be very congenial; but, to 
their surprise, Brenda was much less courteous toward her 
cousin than they had expected her to be. She was unwill- 
ing to admit Julia to the charmed circle of “The Four,” 
which was made up of Nora, Edith, Belle, and herself. 
While she might have been unwilling to admit that she 
was jealous, she assumed that Julia felt a superiority to 
her that her year and a half of seniority did not warrant. 
When she learned that Julia intended to go to College she 
became ridiculously angry. No girl of her set had ever 
gone to College, and Brenda, like many other girls of 
fifteen, objected to having any one in her own family 
depart from the ordinary routine. Belle, who was in- 
clined to flatter Brenda, had by no means tried to lessen 


44 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


her jealousy of Julia. In fact, she was willing to pity 
Brenda and sympathize with her a little, thinking in that 
way to make herself more important. While there was 
nothing resembling a quarrel between the girls, the un- 
friendliness reached its height at the time of a Bazaar, 
given by “The Four,” for the benefit of the Rosas, a 
family of poor Portuguese in whom the girls had become 
interested. Although Julia had realized that she was left 
out when “The Four ” were most deeply engaged in mak- 
ing their plans for the Bazaar, she showed no resentment. 
On the contrary, she did her part in helping when the 
Bazaar actually came off, and a little later, when Brenda 
got herself into difficulties, by a very foolish act, she came 
nobly to the rescue of her cousin. For this Brenda had 
been duly grateful, and the relation between the two girls 
was now most cousinly and cordial. Yet in the space of 
a few months a complete change of disposition is hardly to 
be looked for in even the best intentioned girl of fifteen. 
Brenda, therefore, although she now was fond of Julia, 
for some time was likely to be wilful, headstrong, and 
more or less selfish. 

It was certainly the old - Brenda who sat at the table at 
dinner that evening of Nora’s arrival with a frown, — a 
decided frown on her pretty face. 

“ I must say that I can’t see the least reason why we 
shouldn’t go over to Nahant to-morrow.” 

“Brenda,” responded her mother, “I did not say that 
you couldn’t go, but merely that you couldn’t drive 


over. 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


45 


“Now that’s very different,” and Nora’s bright voice 
was a pleasant contrast to Brenda’s fretful tone. “ There ’s 
no reason, is there, Mrs. Barlow, why we should n’t go 
down in the train to Lynn, and meet Edith there? ” 

“Oh, no; but I shouldn’t care to have you go over in 
the omnibus to Nahant.” 

“Oh, but it would be such fun.” 

“Yes, but I think that a carriage would be better. I 
could telephone to have one meet you at the station.” 

“But just suppose Edith expects to go in the omnibus, 
— could n’t we go with her ? ” 

“Well, I will leave it all to Edith. That is, you 
may do as she does. Possibly Frances has arranged it all 
with her.” 

The next morning, accordingly, Brenda and Nora found 
themselves on the train bound for Lynn. It was a 
crowded local train, and they had some trouble in getting 
a seat. But they rather enjoyed the rush and flurry, and 
the novelty (at least to Brenda) of travelling alone. Nora 
was more accustomed to journeying by herself, and had 
even gone once from Boston to Intervale unaccompanied. 
She was therefore a good traveller, and had her ticket 
ready for the conductor, and rescued Brenda’s from the 
floor, where the careless girl had dropped it. The two 
friends laughed and chatted, and were almost sorry that 
the journey was to be so short, when suddenly the engine 
gave those two sharp whistles which are always alarm- 
ing, and many passengers jumped to their feet. Brenda 
clutched Nora’s arm excitedly, for the train seemed to 


46 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


be slowing up. Nora, whose seat was near the window, 
looked out and saw a young woman standing at the side of 
the track, and waving her arms frantically. 

The train had drawn up near a little station, and some 
of the men, as well as the conductor and brakemen, went 
out to see what the trouble was. In the mean time, the 
passengers began to speculate as to the trouble, and they 
all talked freely with one another in rather loud tones. 
There seemed to be no doubt but that some one had been 
run over; and when a question was put to the condijctor 
on his return his grave nod confirmed this opinion. 

“Oh, dear!” cried Brenda, “do you suppose that 
they ’ll bring it in here? I wish that we were n’t in the 
first car.” 

“No, indeed,” replied Nora; “even if the person is 
killed — he said a girl, didn’t he, — well, she wouldn’t 
be brought in here. You see we ’re near a station, and, 
anyway, with so many houses near, they would n’t bring 
the — the person into the car.” 

Brenda seemed decidedly relieved by this statement. 

“You ’re a great comfort, Nora; you are almost as calm 
as Julia would be. She never loses her head.” 

“I hope that the lady who met with the accident hasn’t 
lost hers,” said Nora, a little frivolously. 

“Nora, how can you be so heartless? when I was just 
complimenting you for being so sensible.” 

“Well, it may sound more heartless than it is. . I asked 
the brakeman just now if any one had been killed, and he 
said, ‘ No! ’ He explained that it was only a foolish girl 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


47 


who had tried to run across the track in front of the 
engine, and had got caught in the cow-catcher or some- 
thing like that. He said she was more frightened than 
hurt.’’ 

“ Then what are we waiting for? ” 

“ Oh, they have to get statements from witnesses, and 
all that kind of thing. See, they are carrying her into the 
station.” 

Brenda, looking over Nora’s shoulder, saw four men 
carrying something into the waiting-room. They caught 
a glimpse of light skirts, and saw a flower-trimmed hat 
hanging from the arm of one of the men. 

“Just think how dreadful if she had been killed! I do 
hope that it is n’t any worse than the brakeman said.” 

One of the passengers who had gone to the scene of the 
accident now came back and reported that the girl was 
merely bruised and shaken up, and that she would soon 
come to herself. It was her sister whom Nora had seen 
standing excitedly beside the track. She had got across 
safely, and at first glance had feared that the other one 
was killed. 

“Well, I should think that we might start on now,” 
said Brenda, allowing impatience to get the upper hand, 
now that she was satisfied as to the nature of the accident. 

“Just think how cross Edith will be, waiting for us all 
this time. We ought to have been in Lynn an hour ago.” 
Brenda looked at the watch which she wore on her arm 
in a bracelet which her cousin Julia had given her the 
Christmas before. 


48 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCICLEY 


“Oh, we ’re sure to start soon,” said Nora, soothingly; 
and just as she spoke there entered the car a young girl 
whom the two friends immediately recognized. 

“Why, Angelina,” they exclaimed, “what in the world 
are you doing here?” That is, Brenda made the exclama- 
tion, and Nora echoed it. 

The young Portuguese girl (for it was certainly Man- 
uel’s sister) smiled pleasantly at the two girls, but she 
showed no surprise. It was rather a principle of hers 
never to seem surprised. 

“Such a narrow escape ! ” she said, plaintively; “why, 
I ’m trembling now just like a leaf.” 

The girls looked at her in astonishment. “ It was n’t 
you, was it, who had the accident?” asked Nora. 

“Not exactly,” she replied, “although I feel about the 
same as if I was. You see, I saw it all.” 

“ Well, the girl is n’t killed, is she? ” 

“No, no, I think not,” replied Angelina, slowly. “But 
dear me, it was terrible. She looked as if she was being 
drawn right under the engine. I don’t see why she was n’t 
cut in ten-inch pieces.” And Angelina seemed fairly to 
gloat over the possibility of the horror. 

“Oh, but they say that she was hardly bruised, only 
shaken up and frightened. I hope that that will be a 
warning to you, Angelina, not to loiter near the tracks. 
How do you happen to be here, so far from Shiloh?” 
Nora spoke as severely as she could, for she really could 
not understand why Angelina should be so far from home. 

“Well, you see. Miss Gostar, it ’s very hard for me to 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


49 




get used to Shiloh. It ’s so quiet there, so different from 
the North End.” 

“ But I should think that you could find a great deal to do 
helping your mother, enough, surely, to keep you busy.” 

“Yes, ’m; the fact is, I ’ve been almost too busy, so I 
thought that before the boarders came down where I ’m 
going to work at Mrs. SholFs, I ’d make a visit at a girl’s 
in Lynn. She used to go to my church, and she is com- 
ing back to visit me at Shiloh. ” 

“ The Rosas are getting up in the world, to have planned 
for visitors before they are well settled in Shiloh,” thought 
Brenda. Even if Angelina had been able to read her 
thoughts, her self-complacency might not have been 
disturbed. 

“Are you going back to Lynn on this train?” asked 
Brenda. 

“Well, I hadn’t thought of it. I walked down to do 
an errand for a Mrs. Jims — the lady I ’m visiting — it ’s 
only a mile or two. When I heard the whistle I thought 
I’d watch the train come in. I didn’t know there was 
an accident until I got close up. It isn’t often I have 
such luck, — to see a real accident, and meet two friends. 
It would have been very exciting if that girl had been 
killed.” 

Her tone was almost one of regret that the accident 
hadn’t ended in something worse than a mere shaking up 
of the venturesome girl. 

“If you have done your errand, we will invite you to 
ride back to Lynn with us.” 


4 


50 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“Oh, thank you,” cried Angelina; “I can go as well as 
not. It is always so much pleasanter to have company.” 

The conductor and brakeman now reappeared, the pas- 
sengers took their seats, and in a very short time the train 
drew away from the little station. It was only three or 
four minutes before they reached the larger station at 
Lynn. But as Angelina made good use of the time, they 
were able to learn that her mother did n’t cough as much 
as when they lived in the city, that the boys thought it 
great fun to work in the garden, that Manuel had had his 
hair cut very short, and that they had broken only two 
cups and one plate of the new dishes. Angelina, herself, 
according to her own report, was the only one of the fam- 
ily at all discontented with Shiloh, and she condescended 
to say that she thought she would like it better after the 
summer boarders arrived. She also promised to go back 
to her mother the very next day, as both Brenda and Nora 
said that they were sure that she was needed at home. 
Angelina probably realized that it was very necessary for 
her and for the family to have the good will of “the 
young ladies,” as they called “The Four,” and the other 
Bazaar helpers, and she felt flattered that they considered 
her presence so necessary to her mother’s comfort at home. 
She had a fairly well-developed bump of self-esteem. 


V 


AT NAHANT 

Angelina waved her hand cheerfully to Brenda and 
Nora, as she skipped away from the station, and the two 
friends began to look about for Edith. It was not strange, 
perhaps, that they did not see her, for when they glanced 
at their watches, they found that they were more than half 
an hour late. No one, not even the conscientious Edith, 
could be expected to wait in the neighborhood of a station 
so long after the appointed time. 

“What do you think we ought to do?” asked Nora, a 
little anxiously. 

“Why, ride in the omnibus, of course,” responded 
Brenda. 

“But I thought your mother did n’t wish you to.” 

“Oh, well, she might prefer something else, hut it 
would be very silly indeed to wait for Frances or Edith, 
when here is this omnibus ready for us. See, it says 
‘ Nahant Beach,’ and there are only two or three people in 
it, so that we ’ll have plenty of room.” 

“Well, I’m not sure,” said Nora. “Do you suppose 
that this will take us to the house?” 

“ Why, of course ; I ’m sure that it must. Nahant is a 
small place, anyway.” 


52 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


The two friends took their seat in the omnibus opposite 
a fat old lady with a large basket, and a thin man with 
glasses, who looked rather nervous. Before they turned 
toward the beach a mother with two little children got 
in. The children were inclined to be fretful, and they 
climbed about from one seat to another, sometimes resting 
their muddy feet against the fresh, crisp skirts of the 
young girls, sometimes sitting so close to the nervous man 
as to interfere with his newspaper reading. Once they 
stepped on his toes, and drew from him a sharp cry of 
annoyance. 

Their mother paid little attention to them; evidently 
they were accustomed to having their own way. 

“Ah, it’s something ye want to interest ye,” said the 
stout woman. 

“I’m sure that she’s somebody’s cook,” whispered 
Nora to Brenda; and their suspicion — in their own minds 
— was confirmed, when out of her basket she drew a 
bunch of grapes, which she divided between the two rest- 
less little creatures. The children, without deigning to 
thank the giver for the grapes, began to eat them in a 
very haphazard fashion. 

“Be careful,” said Brenda; for the children had begun 
to snap the grapes at one another. “Don’t let them come 
too near.” But even as she spoke a well-directed shot 
landed a grape — and it was a grape without its skin — 
full in the middle of Nora’s skirt. As she tried to brush 
it off she only made matters worse. For the soft pulp left 
a decidedly ugly mark on her dark blue foulard. 


BKENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


53 


“ There, you naughty children, see what you ’ve done 
to the lady’s dress,” cried the mother. She gave each 
of the children a cuff on the ear, which, however, neither 
drew a cry nor stopped their activity. 

Nora tried to make light of the injury to her foulard, 
although such an accident was of more consequence to her 
than it would have been to Brenda. But she was n’t sorry 
when about half way across the narrow strip of land con- 
necting Nahant with the mainland the active mother and 
the children signalled the driver to let them off. 

As the children lurched about in their efforts to move 
as fast as their mother, they clutched first at one thing, 
then at another, on their way to the door. The fat old 
lady did not escape them, and suddenly there was the 
clicking sound of coin, as, one after another, a stream of 
pennies and nickels rolled to the floor of the omnibus. 
The children had only time to gape at the mischief they 
had done, but Nora and Brenda bent down to help the old 
woman collect her scattered wealth. For a minute the 
stream seemed unending. The two girls, indeed, had to 
do all the picking up of the coin, for the old woman was al- 
together too stout to stoop. As Nora and Brenda laid 
one coin after another in her lap; she took each one 
up deliberately, and proceeded with a sum in addition 
after this fashion : “ A nickel — thank you. Miss ; five and 
seventeen is twenty-two, and this penny, — I’m very 
much obliged ; that ’s twenty-three, and two pennies, — 
thank ye most kindly; that ’s a quarter.” Thus she pro- 
ceeded until the whole amount was gathered up to her 


54 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


satisfaction. Fortunately there were no other passengers 
in the omnibus, so that there was no one present to criti- 
cise the sight of two well-dressed young girls kneeling on 
the floor of an omnibus to pick up a purseful of pennies 
for a stout working- woman. Just as they had finished 
their self-imposed task, two or three other passengers 
came into the omnibus, but the girls paid little attention 
to them. They were looking out of the window. It was 
low tide, and horses and carriages were driving on the 
hard sands of the broad and beautiful beach. There were 
only a few bathers in the surf, and not many persons to 
be seen around the flimsily built hotel and restaurants. 
When they reached the peninsula of Little Nahant, there 
was less of interest to see, and the two friends began to 
talk (or perhaps chatter would be the truer word) after the 
fashion of girls. At last they were startled by the driver’s 
inquiry. 

“Was you going over to the beach?” 

“Why, no,” replied Brenda; “we’re going to Mr. 
Pounder’s cottage. Green Gables; don’t you pass it?” 

“Not by a mile or so,” replied the driver, with the 
independence of the true-born Yankee. “’T ain’t on our 
rout.” 

“But can’t you take us there? ” 

“No, indeed, miss, not now. We run on sche-dule time, 
and it would n’t do for me to make no changes. You see 
it isn’t my team,” he added, noticing the look of disap- 
pointment on the faces of the two girls. 

“What shall we do?” asked Brenda with some anxiety. 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


55 


“Well, you might get a carriage up there to the stable 
on the hill, or you might walk all the way. ’T ain’t so 
dreadfully far. Here’s where our road turns off; I sup- 
pose I ’d better let you off here.” 

So, greatly to their own surprise, Brenda and Nora now 
found themselves standing rather helplessly in the middle 
of the road. 

“I don’t feel a bit like walking, do you? — and up that 
great hill, too. Isn’t it maddening? They ’ll be through 
luncheon by the time we get there.” 

“I must say,” responded Brenda, “that Frances might 
have sent a carriage to look for us — or something. ’ ’ 

Just then they heard some one calling in a rather wheezy 
voice, “Young ladies, young ladies!” and, turning, they 
beheld the fat woman of the omnibus waddling toward 
them. 

“Young ladies,” she said, as she drew near, “there ’s a 
telliphone in me son’s shop, and you ’re very welcome to 
use it. I’m thinking that Mr. Pounder wouldn’t want 
youse to be walking this hot day.” 

The girls thanked her cordially for the suggestion, 
wondering, at the same time, ^at they had n’t thought 
of a telephone before they had left Lynn. I am afraid, 
however, if the truth were told, they were a little too 
anxious to show their independence and their ability to 
get on without asking questions. They did not know 
that the more experienced a traveller is the more likely 
is he to make all inquiries needed to set him right on 
his journey. 


56 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


After telephoning, Brenda learned that Frances had 
sent to the station in Lynn ; but after waiting ten minutes 
the coachman (seconded by Edith) had decided that the 
two girls from Rockley had changed their plans. Had 
they inquired of the station master, they might have 
learned of the enforced delay. 

“But we won’t scold them for that,” and Nora smiled 
as she thought of their funny trip in the omnibus. 

While they waited in the little shop they found that 
the old woman, although not a cook, was a laundress, and 
that she had gone to Lynn that morning to get some fruit 
for a sick daughter. “I didn’t mind when they gave me 
all that change,” she said, “for I hadn’t any intention of 
spilling it; but, thanks to you young ladies, I ’m no worse 
off now than I was before.” 

While they waited for the carriage, Mrs. Moriarty ex- 
plained, still further, that her son had asked her to turn 
the five-dollar bill into small change in Lynn, and this 
accounted for the shower of coin. “ He needs an awful 
sight of small change in the shop,” she had explained; 
“ but 1 never expected ‘to put the likes of you, real ladies, 
to so much trouble.” 

“Oh, I ’m sure that we were very happy,” said Nora; 
but both she and Brenda gave a sigh of relief as they saw 
the Pounder’s carriage approaching. Frances and Belle 
were standing at the front entrance to the grounds as they 
drove up. With their white piqu^ skirts and becoming 
shirt waists, with their faces wreathed in smiles, they 
looked so attractive that it would have been hard for the 


BRENDA'S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


57 


casual observers to believe that these two friends were 
ever anything but perfectly amiable. The wilfulness of 
young girls, however, and their little faults are, fortu- 
nately, seldom more than skin deep; and if the girls 
themselves would only be willing, sometimes, to see them- 
selves as others see them, many of these faults could be 
entirely weeded out before striking root. 

As Brenda and Nora jumped from the carriage, Edith, 
in a rather elaborately-made dark muslin gown, came rush- 
ing down from the steps. “ I hope that you don’t think me 
too mean for not waiting at the station, but, truly, I had 
no idea that you were coming. I never thought of asking 
if the train was late. Was it much of an accident? ”• 

“Oh, yes. Was any one hurt?” asked Belle, though 
her tone was not one of extreme anxiety. 

So Nora and Brenda for a few minutes had all they 
could do to describe, adequately, their sensations, when 
they heard the ominous whistle, their alarm when they 
learned that some one had been run over, and their relief 
when they found that the whole thing had amounted to so 
much less than they had feared. 

“ I think that Angelina was rather disappointed that it 
was no worse,” said Nora. 

“Angelina! ” exclaimed Belle; “what was she doing 
there?” 

“Oh, I forgot that we hadn’t told you. She was an 
important part of the affair,” and Brenda, with a few 
lively touches that made the others laugh, described 
Angelina’s appearance on the scene. 


58 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“I hope,” said Edith, a little anxiously, “that she will 
go home to her mother to-day. I know that she is needed 
at home. I can’t think why she should he allowed to 
wander around Lynn.” 

“Well, we haven’t time to talk about Angelina now,” 
said Frances, a trifle impatiently, — she never had been 
deeply interested in the Rosas. “Luncheon is served, 
and we must go in now.” 

“Luncheon,” cried Nora, “I was afraid that you 
would n’t give us any. I ’m half famished. In fact, I 
thought that I might have to eat up everything in Mrs. 
Moriarty’s shop — or, rather, her son’s shop.” 

“Oh, Nora!” cried Frances, “you weren’t in that 
shop, were you ? Why no one buys anything there except 
the coachmen and gardener and such people. How did 
you happen to go in?” 

“Why we were invited by Mrs. Moriarty herself; how 
else could we have telephoned? We hadn’t one in our 
pockets. Miss Propriety.” 

Frances had an even smaller sense of humor than had 
Edith, and Nora and Brenda usually had to temper their 
remarks to the understanding of the latter. With Frances 
they were apt to be more impatient. But to-day she was 
the hostess, as Nora fortunately recalled in time, and dur- 
ing the remainder of the luncheon hour she was careful 
to follow the lead of Frances and Belle in conversation. 
Yet at times, when their conversation took a turn that 
seemed altogether too grown-up and dignified for the 
occasion, she could not resist exchanging an occasional 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


59 


glance with Edith, who herself was always natural and 
girlish. 

As Frances’ mother was away, she had to do the honors 
of the house, and certainly, as a hostess, she appeared to 
advantage. The cool dining-room was a delightful place, 
with its long, broad windows. One gave a clear view 
of the ocean and the distant North Shore, and the other 
opened upon a beautiful old-fashioned garden, with the 
beds laid in terraces down to the tennis-ground at the foot 
of the slope. 

“Oh, no, I don’t play tennis now,’* said Frances, as 
they sat on the piazza after dinner. “You "know it’s 
almost entirely out of fashion for girls. When the 
weather is cooler, I ’m going to take up golf. But in 
warm weather I think it ’s a duty simply to keep cool. 
Nobody ought to exert herself in the least in hot weather. 
I don’t approve of it.” 

“ Then I ’m glad that we did n’t try to walk up that hill 
when we got out of the omnibus,” said Nora, mischiev- 
ously. “Perhaps you wouldn’t have been willing to 
receive us when we arrived at your gates.” 

“What nonsense!” cried Frances; “but then, really, 
it ’s very foolish to walk in summer, it makes one so red 
and uncomfortable.” 

“ Everybody does n’t have horses and carriages at com- 
mand, as you have, Frances,” said Belle, impatiently. 
She realized that Frances had spoken foolishly. “ It ’s 
very seldom that my grandmother gives me a chance to 
drive, and a great many families have no carriage at all.” 


60 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“ Oh, not among people we know,” replied Frances. 

“ Well, there are plenty of horseless people among those 
I know,” said Nora, — '“plenty of them; really, Frances, 
you ought to know more about real life. For my own 
part, I walk most of the time, in summer as well as in 
winter.” 

Frances did not resent the rather sharp tone in which 
Nora spoke; and as the carriage drove up just at that 
moment, — 

“I suppose,” she said, “that you won’t object to driv- 
ing with the rest of us. There is more than an hour 
before train time. I ’m going over to Lynn with you, and 
we ’ll have time to drive first around Nahant. 

“If Julia were here,” she said, as they started out, 
“I suppose she’d want to see Longfellow’s cottage, and 
Agassiz’ house, and all the other historic places, and — ” 

“But why shouldn’t we be just as interested as Julia? 
Edith and I have both heard of Longfellow and Agassiz, 
and all the other famous people who have ever been at 
Nahant. I only wish that we had time for a sight-seeing 
expedition.” 

“Well, we haven’t, to-day,” responded Frances; “but 
this is the Ormsby’s new house. Is n’t it a beauty? And 
there is the Club; but of course you know that.” 

“ In which direction is Spouting Rock ? I ’ ve been 
there,” said Brenda. 

“ Oh, out there, ” said Frances, pointing seaward. “ I 
have n’t been there myself for ages, — not since I was a 
little bit of a girl.” 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


61 


“Why, Frances Pounder!” 

“Well, what is the good. It is so tiresome scrambling 
about over the rocks. I ’d much rather sit on the piazza, 
or drive. It ’s our duty to rest in summer.” 

Nevertheless, in spite of her professed indifference to 
the best-known spots in Nahant, Frances did point out 
the unpretentious, home-like cottage where Longfellow 
had spent so many summers, and several other houses 
where Story and Curtis and Prescott, the historian, had 
spent a greater or less time. Yet, although she was more 
enthusiastic on the subject of the newer houses of her 
special friends than on the historic houses or the pic- 
turesque localities, she made herself very entertaining. 
Nora consequently came to the conclusion that, after all, 
there was something to like in Frances; and when she 
thanked her for a very pleasant day she meant just what 
she said. 


VI 


JULIA’S KETUKN 

As the train rolled toward Rockley after their day at 
Nahant, Nora and Brenda at first were rather quiet. 
Summer pleasuring is apt to be tiresome; and although 
they had not exerted themselves physically, their tongues 
and minds had been pretty active. 

“I hope you did n’t offend Frances,” said Brenda; “she 
wasn’t very talkative when we first started to drive.” 

“I didn’t notice it. Why in the world should you 
think that I offended her?” 

“Well, you were just a little sharp when you spoke 
about driving; and there were one or two other things 
like that.” 

“ I am sure that you must admit, Brenda, that Frances 
is rather ridiculous when she talks in that toplofty way. 
When she holds up her head and talks nonsense, she makes 
me think of that princess — who was it ? — who wondered 
why the poor people, when they couldn’t get bread, didn’t 
eat cake instead. We all know that Frances can have a 
horse for her own use every minute of the day if she wishes 
it. But many people drive very seldom, and the most of 
them, I dare say, only know horses by sight.” 

“ Oh, Frances was only thinking of people she knows. 
Every one in her set drives.” 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


63 


“There, Brenda, that’s it. Frances never looks out- 
side of her own set. Tell me honestly, now that you are 
so much broader-minded than you used to be, if you don’t 
think it ’s very silly for a girl not to be willing to realize 
that there are people in the world besides those whom she 
knows best and considers in society?” 

“Why, yes, I do consider it rather foolish.” Brenda 
had felt somewhat complimented by the adjective “ broad- 
minded,” which Nora had applied to her. “You know,” 
she continued, “that I don’t agree with everything Belle 
and Frances say. But I think that you are a little hard 
on them sometimes.” 

“Frances certainly treated us very hospitably to-day, 
and it is n’t just the thing to criticise her. But, some- 
way, it tires me to hear her and Belle talking in that 
languid style, just like grown people, and I ’m glad that 
we are not obliged to follow their example.” 

When Brenda was dressing for dinner that evening, 
Nora slipped into her room for a few minutes. 

“I always think of this room as one of the cosiest 
and prettiest I know. These pink roses are so lovely 
on wall paper, and the china matches it so exactly. Oh, 
what a delightful easy chair this is!” and Nora flung 
herself down into the depths of one that held out its 
arms invitingly. 

“I should think that you would feel like keeping it 
most of the time on that little covered balcony, where you 
could sit and read and look at the sea, and do nothing 
else for hours.” 


64 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“And you were just scolding about laziness a little 
while ago.” 

“ Oh, well, there are different kinds of laziness. Read- 
ing is one kind, that nobody scolds about very much in 
the summer. What have you been reading?” 

“Oh, novels and such things. That’s all that I ever 
do read.” 

“ Why, Brenda Barlow, a novel by ‘ The Countess ! ’ ” 
cried Nora, taking up some of the books from the little 
bookcase in the corner ; “ and here ’s another, and another, 
and — why, there are six of them, as true as I live ! My 
mother doesn’t let me read ‘ The Countess; ’ ” and Nora 
held up the paper-covered book, on the outside of which 
was the picture of a very pretty woman in a low-necked 
gown, supposed to be the author. 

Brenda blushed a little guiltily. She had never been 
forbidden to read this fascinating author (at least she con- 
sidered her “fascinating”) because her mother was un- 
acquainted with her fondness 'for this particular species of 
literature. Brenda had happened to buy a “ Countess ” 
novel at a news-stand, while waiting for a train, another 
had been sent her by Belle, who had already read it and 
pronounced it “perfectly fine,” and then Brenda, as she 
had the opportunity, had bought the others. There was 
no great harm in the books, — or what there was was be- 
yond Brenda’s comprehension, — but they were foolishly 
sentimental, and she had had a distinct consciousness more 
than once that if her father and mother should discover 
her reading them they would be far from pleased. At 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCia^EY 


65 


the same time, she let the books stand on her bookcase, 
instead of hiding them (as some girls might have hidden 
them) in her closet. It had never been a family rule that 
she must ask, before reading new authors, and yet she 
knew perfectly well that in reading “ The Countess ” she 
had not done right. On the other hand, she eased her 
conscience by saying to herself that she did not hide her 
books, and that if her mother should happen to examine 
her bookshelves she would find these novels, and could 
express herself about them. 

“In fact,” so her thoughts ran on, “I am not sure that 
she has not seen them ; and as she has n’t said anything to 
me about them, she must think them all right.” 

But Mrs. Barlow, if she had noticed these books in 
Brenda’s room, had never really examined them. They 
were as innocent in appearance, when one looked only at 
their backs, as “Dosia” or “Le Roi de Montagnes,” which 
had a place on the same shelves, and, like the English 
novels, were bound in paper covers. 

Now Nora, perceiving that the subject was not alto- 
gether an agreeable one to Brenda, said no more about 
the tabooed books. But she laid the matter up in her 
mind, intending, as soon as she could, to make an oppor- 
tunity to speak about them. 

The very next day, fairly early in the afternoon, Julia 
arrived from Cambridge. 

“You really do look pale,” cried Nora, after the first 
greetings had been exchanged. “I am going to join 
Brenda in pitying you.” 


5 


66 


BRENDA'S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“Well, you needn’t,” responded Julia. “I can assure 
you that it would be pity wholly thrown away.” 

“But aren’t you tired, and weren’t the examinations 
fearful?” 

“Oh, I am a little tired, and the examinations did 
seem a trifle wearing. But everything seems wearing in 
hot weather, even pleasure-seeking,” and she glanced 
mischievously at Brenda, recalling one or two hot days 
when they had vainly tried to amuse themselves. 

“Oh, it is positively cruel to make people study and 
work in June. I wouldn’t do it for anything,” and 
Brenda shook her head very emphatically. 

“Well, it’s all over now — for this June, at least; and 
while I won’t wholly agree with you about the cruelty of 
making people study in June, I ’ll admit that I am very 
glad to settle down to the business of amusing myself. 
Haven’t you planned something especially in my honor?” 
and J ulia glanced mischievously at Brenda. 

“The Fourth of July is the next exciting event,” 
responded her cousin; “but you and Nora must do just 
as much as you can to make it a great occasion. Without 
any boys in the family, it isn’t the easiest thing in the 
world to be patriotic.” 

“What an idea! ” exclaimed Nora. “Can’t girls be as 
patriotic as boys?” 

“Not in the way of firecrackers, and things like that. 
It takes boys to make things lively.” 

“I agree with you there,” said Nora, thinking of her 
own houseful of brothers. “Boys do make a Fourth of 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


67 


July uncommonly lively. Let me see, I believe that 
Teddy singed both of his e3^ebrows last Fourth, and got 
a spark in his eye that we thought at first might destroy 
the sight, and Rupert was hit in the head by a rocket, and 
had to be revived by a pailful of water, and Jim Buller, 
who was visiting us, broke his arm by falling off the roof 
of a shed where he had been sitting and waving a flag 
enthusiastically, and — ” 

“Oh, what a chapter of horrors! ” cried Julia. “If we 
should try, I am sure that we could n’t equal it here at 
Rockley.” 

“We ’ll have plenty of fireworks,” said Brenda. 

“And if we could borrow a small boy or two,” added 
Nora. 

“There’s Fritz,” responded Brenda. “But then he 
mightn’t like to be called a small boy.” 

“ Who ’s Fritz ? ” asked Julia. 

“Well, I don’t know exactly,” answered Brenda; “he ’s 
some kind of a friend of Amy.” 

“ Oh, 3"es/’ said Julia. 

“Who is Amy?” asked Nora. 

“I don’t believe that Brenda knows much more about 
Amy than she does about Fritz, said Julia, unless 
you ’ve called on her during my absence?” and she looked 
questioningly at Brenda. 

“No, I have n’t,” replied Brenda, a little shortly; “but 
I ’ve seen her once. I ’ll tell you about it some time. 
It would bore Nora to hear about a girl she has never 


seen. 


68 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“Speaking of girls,” said Nora, “reminds me of Ange- 
lina. We saw her the other day on our way to Nahant.” 

Thereupon, between them, Nora and Brenda told Julia 
about their rather singular meeting with Angelina. J ulia 
looked serious when they had finished the story. 

“Do you know,” she said, “I believe that we shall have 
more trouble with Angelina than with all the rest of the 
Rosas. I have a letter here from Miss South; let me read 
what she says,” and she pulled the letter from her pocket. 

My dear Julia, — My grandmother and I are spending 
a very pleasant month at Milton, and Fidessa scampers about 
the garden as gayly as if she had never known any other 
home. I really believe that my grandmother is delighted to 
be out of the city, although she is slow to admit it. For 
several years she has been in the habit of remaining in the 
city all summer. But now that she has a granddaughter to 
look after her, she is beginning to find out that it is possible 
to be almost as comfortable in a boarding-house as in her 
own home. Toward the first of August we are going down 
to Marblehead. You know I have found a house on a hill 
overlooking the water, where we shall be the only boarders. 
That will be the next thing to being in a house of our own. 

I must tell you now that the other day we drove over to 
Shiloh. I spent half an hour with Mrs. Rosa, while my 
grandmother drove out toward the Lake. Mrs. Rosa is look- 
ing much better for the change of air, and the children are 
as happy as can be. Angelina is the only discontented one. 
The place is too quiet for her, and she makes her mother 
miserable by repining for the city. I wish that Mrs. Rosa 
could be a little sterner with her. She is inclined to let 
Angelina have her own way. Perhaps when there are more 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


69 


boarders in town Angelina will feel less lonely. But I 
am afraid that she will never find Shiloh as gay as Hanover 
Street. Hoping to see you soon at Marblehead, 

Sincerely yours, 

Lydia South. 

Milton, June 20. 

“Well, I declare,” said Brenda, when Julia had finished 
the letter, “how ungrateful Angelina is after all we have 
done for her. The idea of her wishing to live in that 
wretched place again — with mice running about, and all 
kinds of disagreeable things. Ugh ! ” 

Julia laughed at Brenda’s disgusted expression. 

“I don’t suppose that Angelina is exactly longing for 
the mice ; by this time she has probably forgotten them. 
But ' you see she has always lived in the city, and she 
naturally finds the country a trifle dull.” 

“Dull! ” and Brenda gave a sniff of disdain. “I hope 
that she ’ll have so much work to do this summer that she 
won’t have time to know whether she ’s dull or gay.” 

“Why, Brenda, how you are progressing! To advocate 
hard work for any one ! The next thing you ’ll be looking 
for work for yourself.” 

Brenda took this chaffing in good part. There was 
never a real sting in anything that Nora said. 

“No, indeed,” she responded. “It may be a long time 
before I advocate work for myself. It’s one thing to 
prescribe medicine, and altogether another to take it 
one’s self.” 

“Oh, well, Angelina is not thirteen yet. We can’t 


70 


BRENDANS SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


expect much from a girl of that age.” Of the three girls, 
Julia was the most apt to look at a subject from all sides. 

“Well, she seems more than that, and I ’m sure she is 
old enough to realize her duty.” 

“I’m older than she, and I ’m afraid that I don’t always 
realize mine.” 

“ The idea, Nora, of comparing yourself with Angelina! ” 

“I ’ll admit that we ’re not exactly twins, but still — ” 

“Girls, girls,” — the three looked up to see Mrs. Bar- 
low standing at their door, — “isn’t it pleasanter on the 
piazza ? The moon rises early, and you ought to be there 
to see it.” 

“Grand show! Free admittance!” and Nora caught 
Brenda by the waist to whirl her two or three times 
around the room. 

“Yes, Aunt Anna, we ’re coming almost immediately; 
I want to write a note first,” concluded Julia, in a lower 
tone, as the other two started to go downstairs. 

The windows of Julia’s room looked out toward the sea, 
and now, as she gazed out, an involuntary exclamation of 
delight broke from her. The moon, seeming to rest on 
the edge of the waters, was of a deep orange, or rather of 
a color that was neither orange nor yellow nor red, but a 
mingling of all three, and it had a transparency that made 
it seem almost possible to look through it. Off to the 
right, the sharp reddish lamp of the lighthouse revolved in 
its regular course. 

Julia counted the regular revolutions, then laughed at 
herself for doing so. “Creature of habit! ” she murmured 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCICLEY 


71 


reprovingly. “ I know perfectly well just how many revo- 
lutions there are, and what the interval is between them ; 
but still it fascinates me to count. I half hope that the 
count will once in a while be different, that I may find 
the lighthouse in a fault. I wonder what would happen 
if it should go a little wrong for a night or two. It ’s 
more to be depended on than the moon, for sometimes the 
moon hides behind a cloud. I suppose that that is one 
reason why we are so fond of the moon. If she were as 
absolutely unchanging as a lighthouse, we might consider 
her rather tiresome. I believe I can understand why 
Brenda is so annoyed with people who claim to be per- 
fect. Angelina seems to be her one exception. Well, the 
sooner I write that note to Miss South the better! ” 

Although the light was really too dim for writing, Julia 
pushed a little table to the window, and soon had the note 
finished which was to apprise Miss South of Angelina’s 
recent visit to Lynn. She asked her friend to make sure, 
by sending a messenger to Shiloh, that Angelina had 
really returned home. She knew that in a general way 
Miss South needed no suggestion as to what ought to be 
said to Angelina, and Julia felt sure that she would devise 
some plan for preventing Angelina’s leaving home again. 

When the note was finished Julia still sat near the win- 
dow. It was nearly dark, and the moon, paler in color, 
had grown to look more metallic. It was high enough to 
throw a trail of light on the water, and, the better to 
enjoy the scene, Julia stepped out on the little balcony, 
upon which her windows opened. She found it, indeed. 


72 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


pleasanter to stay there than to join the rest of the family 
on the larger piazza below. Her examinations had really 
tired her more than she had realized, and she was glad to 
have this time to herself. Her mind went hack over the 
past year. Could it be only a year since she had sat with 
her father in Jihat little adobe house in the hills of New 
Mexico, the place to which they had gone in their last 
effort to bring back that health which was never again to 
be his? He had lingered until September; and then the 
end had come so unexpectedly that Julia had not had time 
to send for any of her relatives in the East. But she had 
had Eliza with her, — good, faithful Eliza, who had under- 
stood her and sympathized with her, and had come with 
her on that sad journey across the continent. Her father’s 
will had been very explicit. He had requested that he 
should be buried in the old cemetery just outside the town 
where he died. In a letter he directed Julia, as soon as 
the funeral was over, to go immediately to Chicago. 
There she was to rest for a few days at the house of an 
old friend of his, who was also one of the executors of his 
will, and, as soon as possible, still under Eliza’s care, she 
was to go on to Boston to her uncle, Robert Barlow’s. 
Julia had obeyed her father’s commands, and had left the 
placing of the stone over his grave to his friend. Colonel 
Amsden, then stationed at Fort Marcy. Her stay in 
Chicago had so brightened her that when she reached 
Boston she had felt able to take up the work of the school 
which her cousin Brenda attended. Before she reached 
Boston, the faithful Eliza had had a letter from a brother 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


73 


in Maine, urging her to come to him to take care of his 
motherless children. 

“You don’t really need me now, Miss Julia,” Eliza had 
said ; “ but I promise you that if you ever do I will come 
to you.” 

So Eliza had gone away a day or two after Julia found 
herself settled in her uncle’s house, and she had taken 
with her the faithful setter, “Prince,” who for several 
years had been the companion of Julia’s wanderings. 

“ A city house ain’t no place for a dog — even if your 
aunt wanted him, and I kind of understand that she 
don’t. He can roam where he wants to at my brother’s 
farm, and perhaps next summer you can have him with 
you at the shore.” 

But in the late spring Prince had died, — “of old age,” 
Eliza had written, and Julia, though she had not said so 
very much about it, had really felt his death deeply. 
Perhaps you may think it foolish for a girl who had just 
taken her preliminary examinations for College to sit in 
the moonlight on a warm June evening, shedding a tear as 
she thought of the faithful old dog whom she was never 
to see again. But Julia felt no shame as she sighed, 
“Poor Prince,” and wiped away the tears. 

The murmur of voices came up to her from the piazza 
below. But she felt no desire to go down. 

“Julia, Julia,” called Brenda, “we want you.” 

“Please excuse me,” responded Julia; “I really am 
tired. Let me say good-night from the balcony.” 

“A perfect Juliet,” cried Nora, running out on the path 


74 


BRENDANS SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


in front of the house, and gazing up where J uliet stood on 
the balcony. 

“As I see that you merely mean a pun, I will forgive 
you,” cried Julia. “I am too tired to do even the bal- 
cony scene. Good-night.” 

Yet, although she withdrew to her room, Julia was by 
no means displeased that her cousin, as well as the others, 
desired her presence. Six months before, Brenda would 
have been slow to admit that she had any pleasure in 
Julia’s society. She had permitted herself to be the 
victim of unreasonable prejudice, which it had taken 
much effort on Julia’s part to remove. Or perhaps it 
might be truer to say that, without making a special 
effort, Julia, by merely showing what she really was, had 
conquered the prejudice of her impulsive cousin. 


VII 


THE FOURTH BEGINS 

Amy Redmond looked wistfully from the kitchen win- 
dow. She leaned on the sill, and gazed farther down the 
road, in the direction from which came the sound of 
laughing vdices. A moment later a beach wagon rolled 
past, and she recognized Brenda as one of the merry 
party. 

Amy turned to her work with a sigh. “It seems to 
me that on holidays I have more to do than on any other 
day,” she said; “housework is so very, very tiresome.” 
Nevertheless, in spite of her repining, she did not neglect 
her work, and she took up the slender steel knife which 
for a moment she had laid down, and went on peeling 
potatoes. 

“It’s ridiculous,” she murmured, a little impatiently, 
“ for any one to think of eating hot food on a day like this ; 
but I suppose that an invalid has to be humored.” 

“Amy, Amy,” called a voice from the garden. 

“Yes, ’m,” she answered, briskly, going to the door. 
“You needn’t light the stove until eleven. The day is 
so very hot.” 

“Yes, ’m, promptly at eleven,” said Amy, glancing at 
the clock. It was now only half-past ten, and she saw 


76 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


that she had begun her preparations for dinner a little too 
early. 

Just then an impatient rat-a-tat-tat sounded on her ceil- 
ing, as if some one was knocking on the floor above with 
a stick. 

Amy rushed out into the little hall, and up the stairs. 
In the large, rather pleasant front chamber sat an elderly 
woman in a steamer-chair, with her eyes shaded by a dark- 
green shade. 

“Where is your mother?” she asked fretfully, as Amy 
entered the room. Amy hesitated a moment. ’ 

“She has gone out to sketch,” she said at length, with 
a little sigh. 

“There it is,” replied the older woman; “always sketch- 
ing, sketching, as if anything could come from that. 
Why doesn’t she sit down and work at her miniatures. 
People sometimes make a little money by painting minia- 
tures. But sketches! who ever heard of any one’s selling 
a sketch from nature in these days.” 

“There’s no sense,” said Amy, rather crossly, “in 
painting miniatures that no one will buy. Mother has 
several ideal heads that she would sell now, if she could, 
but nobody wants them. She ’s painted me from life, and 
Fritz from life, and one of the little Murphy children 
down the road, but they ’re all up there in her room. I 
can’t see that there has been any great demand for them. 
She enjoys sketching from nature, and I ’m glad that she 
has gone up in the woods now — the house is very stufly.” 

“Humph! ” said the older woman, with a shrug of her 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


77 


shoulders. “ What ’s good enough for me ought to be 
good enough for her. I have to stay in the house, even 
if it is close and hot. I can’t go wandering around in 
the woods, and I don’t see why any one with a grown 
daughter should think that she has the right to waste 
time that way.” 

Again Amy gave a sigh. But the sigh was followed by 
a smile. 

“Let me pull down the blinds at this window,” she 
said pleasantly. “The sun is moving around, and if I 
open the other window you ’ll have a current of fresh air. 
That will be a great improvement.” 

As she spoke, she stepped forward, and shook up the 
pillows. “I’ll run out to the well and get you a glass 
of water,” she added; “and perhaps you’d like a little 
luncheon — a biscuit and some apple sauce.” 

“You can bring me the biscuit,” said the invalid, “but 
I don’t care for the apple sauce; it’s made of dried 
apples. I ’d like some fresh fruit. Strawberries are 
pretty plenty now.” 

“There was a man through this back road with some 
on a cart this morning,” said Amy; “but they were so 
poor that we thought that you wouldn’t care for them. 
Mother thought she might be able to get some better later 
in the day. But we ’re going to have fresh peas for 
dinner,” she concluded; “I ’m just going to shell them.” 

“Very well,” said the complainer, “you needn’t wait 
here then. I suppose you begrudge the time you spend 
with me. But it ’s no matter ; I can sit, and sit, and 


78 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


I needn’t expect any one to pay special attention to 
me.” 

“Why, I ’ll come back, cousin Joan, as soon as I can,” 
said Amy, pleasantly; “and first, I’m going to get the 
water.” 

In a moment Amy had returned, with the glass on a 
little brass tray, in the centre of which was a small fringed 
napkin. A plate with two crisp biscuits, and the glass 
saucer with the despised apple sauce were also on the 
tray. She knew her cousin Joan well enough to be sure 
that in the end she would find the sauce an agreeable 
addition to her luncheon. 

“You’ll call me, won’t you, if you want anything 
else,” she said, as she left the room. “I ’ll leave the door 
open.” 

“I ’m not likely to trouble you,” said cousin Joan. “I 
hardly ever want anything.” 

Amy, in spite of her desire to be respectful, could not 
help smiling at this remark of the invalid’s, remembering 
how often, in the course of the day, she was apt to be 
called to the sick-room. 

“Yet, after all,” she said, “cousin Joan is not so very 
sick. It ’s only her eyes, and I believe that she does n’t 
suffer particularly from them. I ’m sure she has a very 
good appetite. If she had n’t, I should have less to do.” 

The peas were shelled, the potatoes were in the granite 
saucepan, and Amy had just lit the wicks in the kerosene 
stove in the small kitchen, when again she heard her name 
called. 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


79 


“Ah! that ’s Fritz,” and she opened the door. 

“Good enough, Amy,” said the boy; “I was afraid 
that you might not be home. I wish that you ’d come 
down with me to the shore. I want to celebrate. I ’ve 
a whole stack of firecrackers ; see I ” and he held up a 
pasteboard box so that Amy could see it. 

“I have two dollars, too, to spend; but my uncle won’t 
let me send off a thing near any house. But he said I 
could go down to the beach — so come, Amy.” 

“Oh, I can’t possibly go now, Fritz; you know how 
much I have to do. There ’s dinner to get ready, and — ” 

“Oh, who wants to eat on the Fourth of July? You 
could get a bite of something, and then come on with me. 
Your mother won’t care. She likes you to have as much 
fun as you can.” 

Amy, leaning out of the window, pointed significantly 
to the window above. 

“ Oh, I forgot the old lady. But your mother can stay 
with her.” 

“I’ll tell you what, Fritz,” said Amy, after a moment 
of reflection. “You stay here to lunch. Of course we 
can’t have fireworks around this house any more than 
around yours. But after dinner I can probably go off 
somewhere with you, when I’ve washed the dishes.” 

“All right,” said Fritz; “I can stay as well as not; and 
say, don’t you think it would be fun to go over to Marble- 
head this afternoon? We could go on the electrics, and I 
have money to pay for quite a little spree.” 

“I’ll see about it. You sit here on the back steps in 


80 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


the shade, until I have the table set. The house seems 
rather hot.” 

But instead of sitting perfectly still, Fritz, boy-like, 
wandered around the little garden, with his hands in 
everything. 

“Say, Amy,” he called, “these sweet peas need straight- 
ening; they are awfully tangled up. I ’m going to make 
some sticks for them to climb on.” 

“That ’s right,” responded Amy; “go ahead! ” 

So Fritz, penknife in hand, strolled about, whittling 
some thin bits of board that he had found into supports 
for the pea-vines. Or, rather, he connected the little 
sticks with pieces of twine, thus making a bit of trellis- 
work for them. 

“Isn’t there something more I can do?” he called to 
Amy. “I want something to keep me busy, so that I 
won’t be tempted to fire my torpedoes.” 

“Oh, dear, you ’d better not! ” cried Amy. 

“Cousin Joan almost had convulsions this morning 
when she heard the children down the road shouting and 
amusing themselves.” 

“ She is a kind of an old tyrant, is n’t she ? ” said Fritz, 
sympathetically. 

“She’s had a great many trials,” responded Amy; 
“more, really, than I have had myself. Then her eyes 
are in a pretty serious condition.” 

“If she were deaf, too,” remarked Fritz, “she’d enjoy 
more, would n’t she ? ” 

"^^Oh, well, tin horns and torpedoes, and all those 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


81 


things are wearing to one’s nerves, and people here in this 
neighborhood seemed to get up at about sunrise. Ah! 
there’s mother,” she exclaimed, as she heard the front 
door open. “Now we'll have dinner.” 

It was a plain little room, although tastefully furnished, 
in which Mrs. Redmond and Fritz and Amy sat down to 
dinner a half hour later. The walls were kalsomined a 
greenish gray, and two or three good photographs of for- 
eign scenes hung there, with a fine water-color sketch — 
evidently a bit of New England landscape — over the 
mantelpiece. In the centre of the table was a low bowl 
filled with nasturtiums, and the china and glass, though 
not expensive, were of good quality. 

It took Amy some time to arrange the little tray for 
the invalid upstairs ; and when it was ready, with nothing 
forgotten, — pepper-pot, salt-cellar, butter-balls, and the 
many other little things besides the main articles of food, 
— Fritz hastened forward to offer his services. 

“Now you really must let me carry it.” 

“What nonsense! it is n’t heavy ; besides, cousin Joan 
doesn’t like boys.” 

“ Then I ’ll take it to the head of the stairs. You can 
carry it into the room.” 

“You might as well let him,” said Mrs. Redmond, with 
a smile. “ I would never discourage a boy from making 
himself useful in little ways around the house.” 

So the two young people, with light hearts and willing 
hands, carried the tray upstairs. Fritz soon returned. 

“I didn’t go in,” he said, with a grimace. “By the 
6 


82 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


tone of the old lady’s voice, I think that Amy will be kept 
there some time. I heard her say that for some time she 
had been waiting and waiting for some one to do things 
for her. She seemed kind of mad.” 

“ Oh, well, Amy will find out what the trouble is ; she 
can smooth out cousin Joan’s wrinkles better than I 
can. ” 

Amy soon came back to the dining-room, and her face 
had a deeper flush than that which had been caused by 
her cooking operations on the little stove, and it was a 
different color from that which a hot day produces. Her 
mother saw that she had had some little encounter with 
cousin Joan, but wisely she refrained from questioning 
her about it. 

Fritz, who now sat at Mrs. Redmond’s table, was much 
stronger looking than the boy whom Brenda had met on 
the rocks a week or ten days before. He no longer had 
his eye bandaged, and his cheek was not so pale. He was 
a mischievous, merry-looking boy, a little younger, appar- 
ently, than Amy, yet bright and quick enough to be a 
congenial companion for the thoughtful girl. 

“I tell you what! ” he exclaimed; “this is a heap better 
than sitting down with my uncle in that old dreary dining- 
room, or ten to one I should be sitting there alone, for 
you know he never comes to the table unless he happens 
to feel exactly in the humor. Why, you know that I get 
more than half my meals alone 1 ” 

“Poor boy!” said Mrs. Redmond, sympathetically. 
“Do you eat more or less than you ought, then?” 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


83 


“Well, that depends. If it’s anything I particularly 
like, I eat more, and if I don’t like it, I eat less. But 
then I ’m on pretty good terms with the cook, and, gen- 
erally, she takes care to have the things that I like. I ’m 
afraid, though, that I should have fared badly to-day, 
because I sent off a firecracker, almost under the nose of 
her pet cat, — my ! you should have seen him jump, — and 
I ’m of the opinion that I should have had little or noth- 
ing to eat to-day had I stayed at home. My ! but every- 
thing here does taste good.” 

“Yes, Amy is growing to be a pretty fair cook. She 
roasted this lamb yesterday so that we might have it cold 
to-day; and she cooked the vegetables to-day; and this 
sponge cake is some of her work; and — ” 

“There, mother, Fritz would have enjoyed his dinner 
better if he had thought that you were the artist who had 
prepared it all.” 

Fritz was placed in an embarrassing position. He did 
not know exactly what to say, nor how to decide between 
his two friends. For to say that he preferred things as 
they were, might seem to make him, in some way, imply 
that Mrs. Redmond might have done better; or to say 
that he was perfectly satisfied with things as they were, 
might sound as if he doubted Mrs. Redmond’s power to 
do better. Very wisely, therefore, he said nothing, — 
nothing further, at least, on the subject of the dinner. 

For so young a girl, however, Amy had a rather un- 
usual knowledge of cooking and housekeeping matters. 
Ten years earlier her father had been a rising young 


84 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


lawyer in a neighboring town. Before he had accumu- 
lated much money, he had died rather suddenly. The 
income which he left his wife and daughter was hardly 
enough to pay house-rent, even in a quiet street of 
this town. But among his possessions was a little house 
on the back road. Mrs. Redmond decided that the very 
best thing that she could do was to occupy this house. 
In no other way could she live so cheaply ; and although 
the neighborhood was certainly not a desirable one, she 
intended to have her little girl so closely in her own care 
that neither of them would be disagreeably affected by 
their surroundings. 

Until the coming of Fritz into the neighborhood, Amy 
had had a rather lonely time. I do not mean that she 
repined, or perhaps realized just how lonely she was. 
With her books and the society of her mother, she was 
very well satisfied. Her hands were seldom idle, and her 
mind was always busy. But her mother knew that it 
would be better for Amy to have more companionship of 
her own age, and she regretted that she could not give her 
daughter this companionship. Now the father of Fritz 
was an explorer, — an explorer who sometimes was away 
from home for two or three years at a time. In his ab- 
sence he left his young son in the care of his own elder 
brother, — a serious man, fond of study, who had little 
idea of the proper way of bringing up boys. In other 
words, he was so afraid that some disaster would befall 
Fritz in his father’s absence, that he was inclined to 
coddle him. In the winter, when they were in the city, 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


85 


Fritz went regularly to school ; but he was not allowed to 
play foot-ball or base-ball or to skate, or to do any of the 
other delightful things which count for more with boys — 
or at least with some boys — than many of their more 
serious occupations. Fritz, indeed, often looked longingly 
at his friends, when he saw them starting off, after school, 
in pairs or in groups, bound, evidently, for the ball field. 
He did not like to be considered a milk-sop, and he knew 
that other boys were apt to express themselves pretty 
strongly about one who did not share their sports. He 
did not like to complain in letters to his father, because 
in every way his uncle was so kind to him. Yet he did 
think that some of the rules made for him, — that he 
should be in the house always before dark, and that he 
should avoid the sports that I have named, — he did think 
that these rules were rather hard for a boy of sixteen to 
obey. It was not strange, perhaps, since he had had so 
little to do with boys of his own age that when he came 
to know Amy he found her so very companionable. Their 
acquaintance had begun one morning on the beach, and 
as his uncle, Mr. Tomkins, came early each season to his 
summer cottage, in the three years of their acquaintance 
Amy and Fritz had spent much time together. As they 
were so near the same age, although Amy had read much 
more than Fritz, they were very congenial. Fritz, indeed, 
regarded with much admiration the tall girl who in many 
ways seemed older than he. Her ideas on all subjects 
were so much more decided, and she was so fearless in 
expressing herself. 


86 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


Mr. Tomkins and Mrs. Redmond were both gratified 
when they observed the intimacy that had grown up 
between the two young people. Mr. Tomkins felt that 
there was less danger of broken limbs for Fritz if he spent 
the most of his spare time with a girl; and Mrs. Red- 
mond, even though she might have preferred for Amy the 
companionship of some pleasant girl, still knew that a 
refined boy like Fritz was sure to have good infiuence 
over her. His influence in many ways was even better 
than Mrs. Redmond imagined. For Fritz was fun-loving 
where Amy was serious, and it was a great advantage for 
her to have a friend who could make her laugh — some- 
times in spite of herself. 

Mr. Tomkins, with his sense of responsibility for his 
nephew, had Fritz study regularly, even on hot summer 
days. “A boy who is going to College has no time to 
waste. There ’s no danger that you will pass your exami- 
nations too well.” So from the time he left school in 
May for their summer home, until the late autumn, when 
they went back to the city, Fritz read his Latin and 
Greek with his uncle, and waded through pages of ancient 
history. Mr. Tomkins was not fond of mathematics, 
and he was too conscientious to undertake to teach a 
subject which was distasteful to him. Consequently it 
was only in winter that Fritz turned to his algebra and 
geometry. And then he had to devote himself to these 
subjects with all his might and main, for not even the 
warmest friend of Fritz could very truthfully say that the 
bright boy was destined to be a mathematician. 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


87 


Amy, on the other hand, had not had just the same 
school advantages that Fritz had had. Her mother had 
been her chief teacher, and had made her lessons at home 
very interesting. Twice a week in winter she went to 
the city for French and music, — ■ an extravagance, some 
people who knew Mrs. Redmond’s circumstances might 
have said. But her mother thought that to give Amy 
this opportunity was really a duty, and she felt that she 
was justified in letting her have these lessons, by the fact 
that she herself gave her her other instruction. Had they 
lived in the city, she would have sent Amy to the grammar 
school; but to have her go to school, as things were, 
would have meant leaving her alone so many hours every 
day, that neither mother nor daughter could make up 
their minds to this separation. Yet Mrs. Redmond was a 
busy woman, giving all the time that she could to her 
art, and although she directed her daughter’s studies very 
carefully, little more than an hour was spent in recita- 
tions, and Amy had much time every day for reading. 
Books completely filled the shelves around three sides of 
their sitting-room, and they represented the best in Eng- 
lish literature. In the evenings mother and daughter 
read together; and when Amy could choose the author, it 
was apt to be a poet, — Tennyson, Longfellow, Spenser. 
If any one had asked Amy to say which of these great 
men she preferred, she would have found it hard to 
answer. She was fond of them all, and she had begun 
to make Fritz feel a part of her enthusiasm. When Amy 
was enthusiastic on any subject, she could quickly bring 


88 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


others to her point of view; and it was no wonder, then, 
that Fritz, too, had begun to follow her in her admiration 
for the great poets. 

But Amy and Fritz were both fond of fun, and as 
they sat this day at Mrs. Redmond’s little dining- 
table, they showed that their spirits were running 
high. 

“Now, Mrs. Redmond, if you say that we cannot go 
over to Marblehead, I shall consider you the hardest- 
hearted parent that ever was, — I really shall.” 

“Ah, Fritz,” replied Mrs. Redmond, with a smile, “I 
have n’t a word to say about your going to Marblehead. 
You know what your uncle would approve, and really I 
can’t see much harm in your going. But it ’s so different 
for a girl.” 

“ Why, Mrs. Redmond, have n’t I heard you say that 
you believed that a girl ought to be as brave and fearless 
as a boy? and Amy is always preaching courage to me. 
Now I ’m sure that if there are any dangers to be over- 
come in Marblehead, Amy ought to have a shy at them, 
as well as I.” 

There was a gleam of mischief in the boy’s eye, and 
Mrs. Redmond understood that his speech was not in- 
tended to be disrespectful. 

“I don’t anticipate any great disturbance in Marblehead 
to-day, and I daresay that toward evening the harbor will 
look very pretty. Undoubtedly, there will be illumina- 
tions on some of the yachts, and — ” 

“But, mother, dear, it won’t do us any good, even 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


89 


if there are illuminations. Fritz always has to come 
back early, and you wouldn’t let me stay until dark.” 

For a moment Mrs. Redmond seemed to be thinking 
deeply. At last she said, with a smile, — 

“I will tell you what I will do. You may go to 
Marblehead this afternoon, and about six o’clock I will 
meet you. But first, Fritz, I wish that you would get 
your uncle’s permission to stay out for the evening.” 

Fritz’s face clouded over. 

“It won’t be very easy to get it.” 

“ I will give you a note to take to him immediately after 
dinner. It will explain what we intend to do. I will tell 
him that I will hold myself responsible for your safe return 
— provided that you and Amy will promise to keep out of 
mischief this afternoon.” 

“ Oh, mother, as if we ever get into mischief! ” 

“ How about that base-ball that landed so unceremoni- 
ously over Fritz’s eye? ” 

“But that was an accident.” 

“Well, there are one or two other things that I might 
mention, — only I ’d rather not spoil your holiday. But 
to-day I want you to have just as good a time as you 
can. The wind has changed since the early morning, 
and we are not likely to find it so very hot this 
afternoon.” 

While Amy was clearing the table, Mrs. Redmond 
wrote the note, and Fritz ran off with it toward his home. 
The two houses were not very far apart, although Mr. 
Tomkins’ house was much more pleasantly situated on 


90 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


high land, with trees about it, and a grove that quite hid 
the back road from sight. When Fritz returned, it was 
easy to see that he had secured his uncle’s approval of 
Mrs. Redmond’s plan, — 

“ Only he says that he hopes we won’t be set on fire, or 
anything of that kind,” cried Fritz, with rather an amused 
expression; “as if we were babies! ” 

“Remember that eye of yours,” and Mrs. Redmond 
shook her head significantly. 

“Yes, ’m, yes, ’m,” rejoined Fritz. “Oh, Amy, uncle 
gave me another dollar! ” he almost shouted, as Amy 
appeared, looking very happy in her dark serge skirt and 
light-blue shirt waist. Fritz was still in knickerbockers, 
to his own great annoyance, as he had really passed the 
age when boys are supposed to wear those picturesque 
garments. His uncle had promised to let him give 
them up in the autumn ; and in the mean time he 
really looked like most of the other lads of his age who 
spent half the summer on wheels. Fritz, himself, how- 
ever, had to take what comfort he could out of the clothes, 
for a bicycle was one of the things that he was not per- 
mitted to have — on account of its danger. 

“When you and I have bicycles, what fun we ’ll have 
spinning over the country,” he said to Amy, as they 
walked the half mile which they had to traverse before 
they could reach the electric car. 

“When I have a bicycle!” exclaimed Amy, a little 
bitterly; “you will probably be in Europe or Hindostan 
— or somewhere with your father.” 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


91 


“Well, I ’ve written him about letting me have a wheel, 
and I ’m perfectly sure that he will. I should n’t be a bit 
surprised if I should have a letter any day.” 

“That will be fine,” said Amy; but her tone was not 
particularly cheerful. 

“Oh, come now, don’t feel glum; you can’t tell what 
may happen. I should n’t be at all surprised if you 
should have one too.” 

“Well, I should be surprised. You know it’s rather 
funny, I have a bicycle pump. My music teacher spent 
a week with us in the spring, and she left it behind her. 
It ’s a foot-pump, and rather clumsy to carry to town, so 
she insisted on letting it stay at our house until the 
autumn. She expects to come again.” 

“ Oh, yes; that was the pump that you lent to that girl 
who wanted your mother to take in washing. That was a 
joke ! ” and Fritz laughed as he recalled the description 
that Amy had given of the incident. 

“There, there, Fritz, I’m sure that Miss Barlow has 
made up for that since. She was really rather kind to us 
the other day. You know that you thought so then.” 

“ Oh, yes, you were rather funny yourself that day, — 
rather dignified and stiff ; the way you can be when you 
are not particularly pleased about things. I fancy that 
you were thinking about the laundress business too.” 

Amy did not deny this accusation. She knew very well 
that she had let Brenda’s remark rankle longer than she 
should have; for, in spite of her politeness to Brenda at 
the time of their first meeting, and her acceptance of the 


92 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


apology, she had not felt pleased at being taken for a 
laundress’ daughter. 

“The fact is, Amy,” continued Fritz, “you are kind of 
down on the summer people. But I don’t think that you 
ought to be so — so — ” 

“Prejudiced,” prompted Amy. 

“Well, yes, — prejudiced. I really think that you are 
not quite as manly sometimes as you are at others.” 

“ Manly ” was a term Fritz applied to Amy when he 
wished to praise her. 


VIII 


A RESCUE 

When the beach-wagon with Julia and Brenda and 
Nora and the rest of the Barlow household passed Amy 
Redmond^s house that Fourth of July morning, Brenda 
cast a glance toward the front windows, half hoping that 
she might see Amy herself. She was by no means indiffer- 
ent to her new acquaintance, although since their chance 
meeting she had made no effort to see her. 

As Amy was busy in the kitchen, Brenda, of course, 
failed to see her; and when the latter looked from her 
window at the passing carriage she gave a sigh, as she 
fancied that Brenda had quite forgotten her, and had not 
even tried to see her as she passed by. For in spite of 
her reserved and somewhat indifferent manner toward 
Brenda, Amy really had felt drawn toward the livelier 
girl. As for Brenda herself, while she could not explain 
the attraction, she had a strong desire to know Amy 
better. The sight of the house brought before her the 
incident of their first meeting, and she pulled Julia’s arm 
to make her look in the direction of the house, saying, as 
she did so, “That ’s where Amy lives.” 

“Oh,” responded Julia, “it is a neat place, isn’t it?” 

“Yes — ” 


94 


BRENDA'S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“Brenda,” said Mrs. Barlow, from the front seat, thus 
interrupting any question that Julia might have asked, 
“ remind me, when we reach Marblehead, to stop at 
Crowther’s, as I wrote them last night to have a prescrip- 
tion put up for me.” 

“Yes, ’m,” replied Brenda. “I must get some film 
there, too; I ’m thankful that in this part of the country 
the apothecaries keep photographers’ supplies. I have n’t 
a single hit of film left, and it would he an awful waste of 
opportunity not to get any pictures to-day.” 

“ How many rolls of film have you used up this summer, 
Brenda; and how many photographs have you to show? ” 
asked Mr. Barlow, with mock seriousness. 

“ Oh, papa, one never keeps any account of the film she 
uses. I ’ll probably use much more when I begin to 
develop the negatives myself. No; but really I don’t 
lose so very many, and I don’t think it ’s fair to laugh 
at me.” 

“Why, no, Brenda; sometimes you do try to be eco- 
nomical. What was it I heard about your trying to use 
the same roll twice the other day? ” 

“Oh, papa, who told you that?” and Brenda herself 
could not help smiling at the remembrance. 

“A girl of your age,” said her mother, “ought to 
have more system. I suppose that hardly any one else 
would keep used and unused rolls of film in the same 
drawer.” 

“Well, I’m trying to be more careful now. It was 
pretty hard, the other day, to find that I had spoiled all 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


95 


the pictures that I took of the girls at school on the last 
day, at Miss Crawdon’s, by exposing them again down 
here at Rockley, when I wanted some views around our 
grounds.” 

“How did you find it out? ” asked Julia. “When did 
it all happen? ” 

“ Oh, it was while you were away. I sent the film up 
to town to he developed ; and when mamma, to oblige me, 
called for the negatives, the photographer told her that 
the roll had been exposed twice, so that there wasn’t a 
single decent negative in the whole lot.” 

“That was really too bad!” Julia’s sympathy was 
evidently sincere. 

“Oh, well, accidents will happen. It isn’t to be ex- 
pected that all one’s pictures will be perfect,” said 
Brenda, with unusual philosophy. 

“ Ah, but you ought to neglect no effort to make them 
perfect,” said Mr. Barlow. “Photography can be made a 
very valual^le form of training in habits of accuracy and 
neatness — if one only puts her mind on it — ” 

“Or his mind, papa,” interposed Brenda. 

“I was thinking,” replied Mr. Barlow, “of girls, chiefly, 
for the reason that it is a girl’s bill for photographic sup- 
plies which my pocket-book has to pay for. I would n’t 
begrudge the money, if the result were more satisfactory; 
but you must admit that you have n’t had much to show 
me thus far, Brenda.” 

“Just wait; just wait. For one thing, I’m going to 
take a lot of views to-day, and I can assure you that you 


96 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


will be astonished and pleased. I ’m going to take you 
in your yachting cap, and cousin Edward in his shirt- 
sleeves, and — ” 

By this time they were driving down one of the hilly 
streets by which the centre of the old town was ap- 
proached. They had been for some minutes driving 
through Marblehead, but had only just reached the more 
thickly settled portions. 

“What queer houses!” exclaimed Julia. “I have 
never seen anything like them ; they look as if they had 
just tumbled down here.” 

“ So far as the line of the street is concerned, I imagine 
that each Marbleheader suits his own taste. You know 
they are famous for being a rugged and independent set of 
people.” 

“Their women certainly used to be,” said Nora; “at 
least, if the story of Floyd Ireson is to be believed.” 

“There are two sides to that story. But the tarring 
and feathering part of it is probably true, and the house of 
Skipper Ireson is still standing.” 

“Dear me! How I should love to see it! ” cried Julia. 

“Some day,” responded Mrs. Barlow, “you can make a 
pilgrimage over here; a great many houses more than a 
hundred years old are to be seen. Some of them belonged 
to rich merchants ; but even many of the plainer buildings 
have some romantic story connected with them. I do not 
pretend to know half the landmarks myself, because we 
generally drive through in a hurry. But we must find 
some one who can walk about with you, and describe 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


97 


everything. For I know that you have a genuine interest 
in that kind of thing.” 

“Miss South will be here next month.” 

“That is true; and she would be an excellent person 
to go with you — if she can spare the time from Madame 
Du Launay. Brenda,” — and she touched her daughter 
lightly on the arm, — “ I hope that you are going to culti- 
vate an interest in history. I have spoken about it before, 
and you are old enough now to have an interest in that 
kind of thing.” 

“I should like to have photographs of a lot of these 
old streets. They are too picturesque for anything,” 
responded Brenda. 

“Photography for you may thus become a stepping- 
stone to higher things. And I won’t begrudge the money 
wasted — I beg your pardon — spent on films,” said Mr. 
Barlow, in the tone which Brenda called “making fun.” 

From Crowthers’, where they stopped to have Mrs. 
Barlow’s prescription put up, and buy Brenda’s film, it 
was not far to Tucker’s wharf. 

“We are to walk the rest of the way,” said Mr. Bar- 
low, as the girls came out of the shop. “It would be hard 
to get the carriage down to the wharf, and I doubt that 
we could find a place to turn. At any rate, it is better 
for us not to make the attempt. Thomas is to put up 
the horses at a stable, and have the rest of the day to 
himself.” 

Except for the popping of firecrackers and torpedoes 
here and there, the old town seemed rather quiet, and it 

7 


98 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


lacked altogether the gayety that might have been ex- 
pected on the Fourth of July. 

“ The young people who care to celebrate are probably 
enjoying themselves in Salem and Lynn, and even in 
Boston,” said Mr. Barlow, in answer to a comment of 
Julia’s. “The old men are down on the water-front, or 
up on the heights of Fort Sewall, where they can look 
over the harbor. To-night, when the harbor and yacht 
clubs are illuminated, you will see the townspeople going 
out in boats — small row-boats — to enjoy the band con- 
cert; but the most of them have gone off to the city to 
spend the day and evening.” 

“Oh, papa, just wait a minute; I want to catch that 
little boy I ” cried Brenda, and she aimed her camera at a 
child who was waving, triumphantly, a whole string of 
bright-red firecrackers. In a minute or two the narrow 
street in which they were walking broadened slightly, and 
they had a view of the water. 

“That ’s the wharf! ” cried Nora. 

“Where?” asked Julia. 

“Why, there, where those people are standing,” re- 
sponded Brenda. 

“Oh,” said her cousin, “I see the people, but that 
place there is n’t exactly my idea of a wharf.” 

“Nevertheless, it ’s altogether a famous one,” said Mr. 
Barlow. “Some of the finest yachtsmen in the country 
have set out from Tucker’s landing to go aboard their 
yachts.” 

“Oh, papa, just wait another minute, while I get a 


BEENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


99 


picture of that man! Isn’t he handsome! He must be 
an Italian; and his little boy, too.” 

“A Portuguese, I’m more inclined to think,” said 
her father, eying the man critically. “Come, Julia and 
Nora. We will wait for you there by the railing. But 
I feel bound to join the rest of the party.” 

“Very well,” answered Brenda ; “ I ’ll be only a minute.” 
Brenda’s camera was one of the smaller hand cameras for 
instantaneous work, and almost before he saw what she 
was doing, she had taken the good-looking Portuguese 
with his basket of merchandise, and his little boy leaning 
on his arm. 

As she began to turn the spool to prepare a second 
plate, she walked away a few steps, wondering whether 
she would dare ask the man to turn around a little, to let 
the sun strike him more directly, so that she could be sure 
of a good picture. While she hesitated, the man himself 
came forward, and in very good English said, “ I should 
be very happy to let you take another picture.” 

So Brenda, rather overcome by this unusual willing- 
ness, stepped nearer to him, in order to get a larger 
picture. Still a third time she tried, after asking him to 
change his position to the better light; and she walked 
off, feeling that she really had accomplished something. 
The light was good ; she had a new roll of film ; and she 
had had what the scientific photographer would call an 
interesting subject. 

“Come, Brenda, come, Brenda,” called her father; “the 
boat is here.” 
fLofC. 


100 


BRENDANS SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


Brenda hurried to the others; and as she had still a 
few minutes to spare, she took a shot at a white-bearded 
old man seated on the steps of a boat-house near the 
wharf. 

“Oh, Julia, I must take you, too; your expression is so 
comical,” and before Julia could remonstrate the click of 
the camera was heard. 

“What do you mean by ‘ comical ’ ?” asked Julia, just a 
trifle nettled. 

“Why, frightened. You look as if you were afraid to 
take the plunge down those steps.” 

“Well, you know I am not so very fond of the water; 
and I think that I ’d almost as soon sit here on the land- 
ing as to take the plunge.” 

“You’ll enjoy it when once you are out there,” said 
Nora. 

“Here it is! here it is! Why, there’s Philip, too!” 
she exclaimed as a little launch touched the landing, just 
as the row-boat from the “ Crusoe ” arrived there. Mr. 
Barlow and his party had now descended the steps to the 
float below, and Brenda gave a hearty, “The same to you,” 
in answer to Philip’s greeting, “Many happy returns of 
the day.” 

“We ’re pretty sure of a Fourth of July every year,” 
said Julia, laughing, as Philip leaped from the boat, and 
came nearer, to talk to them. 

“It’s pleasant to see you, Philip,” said Mrs. Bar- 
low, “ although we did n’t expect to have the pleasure. 
How could you leave Manchester to-day? I understood 


BRENDANS SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


101 


that your mother had a houseful of guests for the 
day.” 

“Fortunately, I was able to get off. They are all 
older people, and Edith has gone to Beverly for a day or 
two. I had to come over to try the ‘ Balloon ’ ; you know 
Tom and I have bought her together: that is, he owns 
two-thirds, and I the balance.” 

“The ‘ Balloon; ’ but what an absurd name for a boat.” 

“Well, the boat is n’t absurd, I can tell you that; and, 
to prove it, I am going to take you back with me to 
visit it.” 

“But we are expected on cousin Edward’s yacht.” 

“ I know that ; but I have settled the matter with him. 
At least, he said that if you would consent, he would 
give Brenda and Julia and Nora permission to visit the 
‘ Balloon.’ ” 

“ But they can’t go without me.” 

“Well, of course you are included, Mrs. Barlow. Now, 
please don’t say ‘No.’ ” 

“ But our guests — ” and she looked at Mr. and Mrs. 
Anstruthers, who had come with her from Rockley. 

“They look like reasonable people,” said Philip, in an 
aside. “Besides, Mr. Elston has other guests on his boat; 
and with the Anstruthers and Mr. Barlow there will be 
plenty of people to entertain them.” 

“Oh, yes, mamma, do say ‘ Yes,’ ” pleaded Brenda; and 
in Julia’s eyes there was an expression that decidedly also 
begged her consent. So it was decided that soon after 
two o’clock the launch should be sent from the “ Balloon ” 


102 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


to the “Crusoe,” to convey Mrs. Barlow and the three 
girls to the smaller boat. 

When this was settled, Philip and his skipper steamed 
away in the launch, and the Barlow party took their places 
in the long boat, rowed by two men, which Mr. Elston 
had sent for them. Mr. and Mrs. Barlow and Brenda 
had so often been taken out to the “ Crusoe ” that they 
would have recognized the men at once, even if their 
white caps had not been encircled with broad blue bands, 
bearing the name “ Crusoe ” in gilt letters. 

The two men rowed steadily and swiftly, and in a very 
short time they were near the yacht, which lay at anchor 
far out toward the mouth of the harbor. 

Mr. Elston stood at the bow, ready to welcome them; 
and although Julia’s heart sank a little as she saw that 
she must climb a little ladder to reach the deck, she 
screwed up her courage as well as she could, and, follow- 
ing the example of the others, reached the deck without 
any mishap. 

Once safely there, after a cordial welcome from Mr. 
Elston, she looked around the boat with admiration. 
How bright and clean the deck ! “ Too clean for a mortal 

foot to walk on,” said Julia, as she looked at it. “I 
should think that it would distress your housemaid to 
know that we are walking about on it.” 

“Housemaid!” laughed Brenda. “Why, Julia, you 
are a regular land-lubber! All the work on a yacht is 
done by men — the very men who brought us over. Is n’t 
that so, cousin Edward? ” 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT HOCKLEY 


103 


“Yes, indeed,” replied Mr. Elston. “They scrub the 
paint and polish the brass, and do more than any five 
women — begging your pardon, ladies — ever could.” 

“ W ell, all the same, I wonder what they use to get it 
so absolutely perfectly clean. ” 

“Elbow-grease, plenty of elbow-grease.” And Mr. 
Elston smiled at the look of amazement on the faces 
of the girls. “Surely you remember the lines from 
‘ Pinafore ’ : — 

“ ‘ When I was a lad, I served a term 
As office-boy in an attorney’s firm. 

I cleaned the windows and I swept the floor, 

And I polished up the handle of the big front door, 

I polished up the handle so carefully, 

That now I am the ruler of the Queen’s Navee.’ 

“You see, the sailors carry this principle into all their 
work. And all expect, some time, to rise like Sir Joseph 
Porter, K. C. B.” 

Now, while the older people talked and laughed at one 
end of the boat, in the shade of the awning extending 
from the cabin, Julia, Nora, and Brenda, in the bow, 
amused themselves by commenting on the various yachts 
in sight. There were not, to be sure, so very many to be 
seen, as the greater number of large craft had gone off 
on cruises extending over the holiday. Those remaining 
inside were simply those that did not belong to the classes 
entered for the races, or they were boats whose owners had 
guests whom they did not care to take sailing until the 
afternoon. 


104 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCIO^EY 


“It really is a very picturesque old town, isn’t it?” 
said Brenda, as Julia stood enjoying the view of the old 
wharves, and the houses sloping upward, rising in irregu- 
lar rows behind one another. 

“ What is that Point out there ? There seems to be an 
old fort, or something like it,” said Julia, without directly 
answering her cousin’s remark. 

“Oh, there is a fort, although I ’ve never been there,” 
answered Brenda. 

“All the better. Then we can go together. You may 
grow as fond as I of exploring.” 

“ Perhaps — ” 

Just then one of the sailors walked the length of the 
deck, striking a Chinese gong. 

“Delightful sound! Come, Julia, that’s cousin Ed- 
ward’s way of having us called to luncheon.” 

“Come, girls; luncheon! luncheon! ” cried Mr. Elston. 
And, following their elders, the girl cousins, a minute 
later, found themselves below decks, at the cosey dining- 
table. 

“The cabin is just a little warm,” said Mr. Elston; 
“but all our edibles are iced, and I know that you’ll 
excuse me if I do not serve you regular sailors’ fare to- 
day. I was almost sure that you would n’t care for hard 
tack and bacon. Now, show me that I was not wrong.” 

Thereupon, his guests did show him that they did ap- 
preciate iced bouillon and salad and sliced tomatoes and 
boned chicken, and last, but not least, the sherbet in 
small glass cups. 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


105 


The promise to Philip had been explained to Mr. 
Elston, and he had agreed to let Mrs., Barlow and the 
girls go for a while, although his consent was given with 
many expressions of reluctance. 

“Nevertheless,” he said, as they reached the deck, “as 
I ’m to he self-sacrificing, it becomes my painful duty 
to tell you that Philip, or rather, his launch, is almost 
here. 

“I had begun to hope that you might lose your way,” 
he said, as the little craft appeared. 

“Ah! no, indeed, sir; there ’s no danger of that when I 
have the chance of entertaining ladies. Are you ready, 
Mrs. Barlow? I can’t very well leave the boat; but if 
Mr. Elston will help you down — ” 

Mrs. Barlow hesitated as she looked at the little naphtha 
launch. 

“Will it hold us all?” 

“Yes, indeed; why, eight or nine persons could be 
crowded in, if necessary,” he added. 

“You’re sure you can manage it yourself?” again 
asked Mrs. Barlow. 

“Oh, yes, indeed! Why not? It’s the simplest kind 
of an engine. I ’ll do my best to get you safely to the 
‘ Balloon.’ Why, you ’re not afraid, are you, Julia?” he 
continued, as Julia stood there, gazing at the launch. It 
seemed to him that there was a shade of anxiety on her 
face. 

“Well, I ’m not such a mermaid as Brenda; and if any- 
thing should happen — ” 


106 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“Don’t be a goose, Julia; nothing ever does happen,” 
said Brenda, a little sharply, as she took Philip’s proffered 
hand, and took her place in the boat beside her mother. 
Julia was the last to step into the launch, and she stepped 
very gingerly, much to Philip’s amusement, as she pre- 
pared to take her place. 

“No, it won’t explode, and it can’t tip over,” he 
explained, as she asked a question or two. “Just trust 
your skipper, and you ’ll enjoy your voyage much better.” 

“We aren’t going very fast,” said Brenda, after they 
had been out a few minutes. “I ’ve been noticing that 
we don’t get much nearer to that boat at anchor.” 

“I hope there isn’t anj’thing wrong,” added Mrs. Bar- 
low, a little nervously. “ Does your engine usually make 
as much noise? ” 

“ Oh, yes, ” said Philip ; “ it is n’t a quiet machine. But 
now it does n’t seem exactly right. It ’s been a little 
cranky lately; but I thought that it had got through mis- 
behaving. Dear me ! ” and there was just a little anxiety 
in his voice. “ I wonder what that was ? ” For the boat, 
instead of going straight ahead, whirled about in a half 
circle. 

In spite of their slow progress, they had reached a point 
well out in the harbor, and there were no other boats near 
them. Mr. Elston’s yacht was under sail, going out of 
the harbor toward the point with the lighthouse. The 
yachts that were not in the race, large or small, were out- 
side, watching for the return of the racers. 

“We’re certainly not progressing,” said Philip. “I 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


107 


wish that I had brought an oar. There ought to be a pair 
in the boat. Then we could row on.” 

“Probably Tom will see you from the ‘Balloon,’ and 
bring the oars,” suggested Mrs. Barlow. 

“ Unluckily, our row-boat is on shore, getting painted. 
You see, we ’ve been depending on this launch.” 

“Oh, well,” said Brenda, “all we can do is to sit still 
until some one comes along with a row-boat, or until 
Tom discovers our predicament. I suppose that he could 
signal to some one, could n’t he, over at the yacht club, or 
somewhere.” 

“Oh, yes,” said Philip; “of course, it’s only a matter 
of waiting here.” 

Yet, although he spoke without much impatience, his 
face showed his annoyance. It really was very provoking 
to have to admit that he did not understand the engine of 
the little launch. A Harvard sophomore is supposed to 
understand everything; and yet, here was a miserable 
little boat which was acting much after the fashion of a 
balky horse. In his inward heart, Philip knew that he 
had undertaken more than he was justified in undertak- 
ing. It was Tom, and not he, to whom the mechanism 
of the little boat had been explained; and although the 
engine was not really very complicated, Philip had as- 
sumed that he could manage the small craft without 
expert knowledge. 

Mrs. Barlow, reading correctly his puzzled expression, 
asked anxiously, “It won’t blow up, will it? ” 

At this question of her aunt’s, Julia betrayed her own 


108 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


nervousness by an excited, “ Oh, is it likely to ? ” and of 
the five, Brenda was the only one who seemed not to be 
afraid of the sputtering, throbbing little engine. 

Nevertheless, Brenda herself would have been as glad 
as Philip to see one of the distant yachts turn about and 
come to their help. It was n’t that there was any danger 
of their drifting ashore, oi striking a rock, or anything of 
that kind. It was simply that she felt that if Philip 
did n’t understand the engine, and if the miserable little 
thing kept on spluttering like that, why, all in a moment 
something terrible might happen. 

“ There,” said Philip, “ I know why Tom does n’t signal, 
or send some one. He ’s gone ashore. One of the men 
on the ‘ Sachem ’ was to take him over to the ‘ Eastern ’ 
to introduce him to a party of ladies whom he wanted him 
to meet. He expected to be back on the ‘ Balloon ’ by the 
time we got there. But we ’re really a little ahead of 
time, and — ” 

Brenda herself was now really perturbed. “Do you 
mean to say, Philip Blair, that we ’ve got to sit here 
just to see what will happen? Really, it seems as if 
you might have thought to bring your oars with you, 
or something.” 

“There ’s a boat coming this way,” said Nora, who sat 
facing Philip. 

“ Where ? ” exclaimed Brenda. “ Let ’s fly signals of 
distress,” and Julia followed her example by shaking out 
her handkerchief. The row-boat now seemed to move 
along more quickly, and, as it drew nearer, they saw that 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


109 


it contained two people, one of whom, a girl, was rowing 
vigorously. 

In a minute or two it was alongside. “Steamboat in 
distress ! ” exclaimed Philip ; and the boy responded with 
a hearty “Aye, aye, sir! ” 

Brenda, in the mean time, was looking intently at the 
other occupant of the boat. 

“ Why, it ’s Amy I ” she exclaimed, turning to Julia. 

Amy herself, a trifle embarrassed, soon brought her boat 
alongside the launch. She bowed pleasantly to Brenda. 
“What can we do for you?” she asked. 

For a moment Philip was at a loss what to answer. 

“Well, if we had your oars,” he said, “if you would 
lend them to us — ” 

“But what would she do? ” exclaimed Julia. 

“Oh, I could tie my boat on, and you could tow us.” 

As Amy spoke, she uncoiled a rope from the end of 
her boat, and, with Philip’s aid, pushed her little craft 
toward his stern. The row-boat was soon made fast to 
the launch, and Amy prepared to hand her oars to Philip. 

“But you must come in here with us; there ’s plenty of 
room for both of you.” At first Amy hesitated. But, on 
second thoughts, she saw that this was the best thing that 
she could do for herself. With a little crowding, a seat 
was found for her, and Fritz remained in the boat. 

“Let me take one oar,” she said, as Philip prepared to 
ply them both. “With so many passengers, two rowers 
will be better.” 

The little launch now sped along rapidly, and although 


110 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


the engine continued to pound and hammer, no one 
minded this very much, since the “ Balloon ” would so soon 
be reached. 

“ Oh ! but she is a beauty ! ” exclaimed Fritz, and Amy 
echoed his words. You, too, would have been enthusiastic, 
had you seen the up-to-date twenty-five footer, with her 
long, over-hanging ends, and low cabin-trunk, and her 
fashionable, cross-cut sails outlined against the sky. From 
her mast-head floated the Club flag, with its triangular di- 
visions of white, red, and blue, — a solitary blue star show- 
ing on the white field. Philip’s private signal, a kind of 
fish-tail flag, was also displayed. 

“ I thought you said that it ought not to fly when you 
are off the boat,” said Brenda. 

“ Oh ! when I ’m off for so short a time, it is n’t worth 
while to haul it down. Besides, I thought that Tom 
was to remain aboard, and he and I are one — so far as 
the boat is concerned.” 

“ I should like to go all over her,” said Fritz, with a 
sigh, as if to do this were out of the question. 

“Why, of course you must come aboard,” responded 
Philip hospitably. Fritz looked anxiously at Amy. He 
was very much afraid that she would decline the invita- 
tion. But for once she was ready to accept a pleasure 
when first offered her. Perhaps she felt that she had in 
this case earned the right to a little fun. Perhaps, too, the 
fact that she had never before been so near a regular yacht 
influenced her, and therefore, when she heard Mrs. Barlow 
second the cordial invitation, she accepted it. 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


111 


The little engine was still thumping and sputtering, 
although not as noisily as a few minutes before, hut Philip 
was uneasy. In his heart he repented that with sopho- 
morific audacity he had undertaken to manage something 
that he did not really understand, and he decided that it 
would be a long time before he should again undertake to 
run a naphtha launch, at least without first receiving in- 
struction as to its mechanism. 

As soon as they had seen Mrs. Barlow and the girls 
safely on board the “ Balloon,’’ — for it was only a step 
from the deck of the launch up the side ladder to the deck 
of the yacht, — Fritz turned to Philip, saying politely, 
“Can’t I help you with that engine? It seems to need 
something.” 

“ Why, certainly, if you can,” responded Philip, look- 
ing with some surprise at the younger boy whose 
appearance did not suggest a familiarity with machin- 
ery. Yet after Fritz had spent a few minutes examin- 
ing the engine, he reported that he had found the exact 
cause of the difficulty. A certain valve which should 
have been open, had accidentally closed, and caused the 
trouble. One or two other little technical matters relat- 
ing to the management of the engine Fritz was able to 
explain. 

“How do you happen to know so much about this 
engine? The launch was made in Pennsylvania;” 
Philip looked with admiration on the younger boy. 

“ Oh, the principle is the same in all engines,” answered 
Fritz, “ and there ’s a boiler factory on the road to Beverly, 


112 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


where I drop in sometimes toward noon. I Ve picked up 
a lot from the men.” 

“ Well — I ’m certainly obliged to you,” said Philip. “ It 
wouldn’t have been exactly pleasant to have had frag- 
ments of iron flying about the heads of our visitors. I ’m 
glad to have the thing flxed before Tom comes back. He 
hesitated about letting me take the launch, but I was sure 
that I could manage it.” 

“ Come, Philip,” called Mrs. Barlow, from the “ Balloon,” 
“ we ’re waiting to have you show us about.” 


IX 


THE “balloon” 

Viewed close at hand, the “ Balloon ” was as flawless as 
when seen from the water’s edge. 

“ I ’m in constant fear of scratching the paint,” ex- 
claimed Nora, moving about gingerly on the bright deck. 

“ I never saw anything quite so shiny,” she continued, 
pointing to the polished brass hand-rail. 

“ There is n’t a speck of dust anywhere on the wood- 
work, and the sails look as if they had just come from 
a laundry. Your skipper must work hard.” 

“ Oh, the men on a boat like this have so little to do 
most of the time, that it would be a pity if they could n’t 
at least, keep things clean.” 

“ Are n’t you coming below ? ” called Nora from the 
cabin door. 

“Why, yes,” replied Brenda. “Come on, Julia.” 

Descending into the cabin, Brenda, who had been on 
the “ Balloon ” before, began to explain its fittings to the 
others. 

“ These are transom-seats. You must n’t call them 
‘benches,’ or even ‘divans,’ and they are most surprising.” 

She lifted one of the green corduroy cushions, and 
touching a handle, showed that the seats were really great 
boxes. 


8 


114 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“ Dear me ! did you ever see such a collection of canned 
things. Green peas, sardines, mushrooms, caviare ! How 
extravagant those boys are ! They ought to live on hard 
tack and corned beef,’’ cried Nora, as she poked among 
the things stowed away under the transom-seats. 

“Not much! corned beef, indeed ! ” exclaimed Philip. 
“We ’d have shown you something very different from 
that at luncheon to-day. But what do you really think of 
the ‘ Balloon ’ ? ” The question was so evidently addressed 
to Julia, that she very naturally replied to it. 

“ It ’s beautiful. It makes me think of a doll’s house, 
it ’s so complete.” She glanced with approval from the 
roof, finished in mahogany, to the pale green carpet that 
harmonized so well with the corduroy coverings of the 
transom-seats. 

Brenda, meanwhile, continued opening various locker 
doors, and Amy and Nora repeatedly expressed their amaze- 
ment when they saw how closely things were stowed away. 
Every bit of space had been cleverly utilized, and all kinds 
of little conveniences made their appearance in unexpected 
places. 

Back of the transoms were lockers where pillows and 
bedding were kept, and Philip showed how two good beds 
could be made up by pulling out the transom, and spread- 
ing fiat the cushions at the back. 

“ But you often have a guest, and where in the world 
do you put him ? ” asked Nora. 

“ Oh ! we have an air mattress, and we lay it just in the 
middle of the floor. If our visitor does n’t like that, we 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


115 


let him have one of the transom bunks, and Tom or I 
takes the floor,” answered Philip, with a laugh. 

Two brass lamps with white and gold shades swung 
from the forward bulkhead, and under the lamps on each 
side of the boat was a chest of drawers. 

Brenda, venturing to look into some of the drawers, 
called Nora’s attention to the neat piles of table linen, 
while Amy and Julia went into ecstasies over the delicate 
glass tumblers in the rack above the dresser, on which 
were painted the Club flag, and Philip’s signal. 

“ I must say your library is n’t very extensive,” said 
Nora, turning over the books on the shelves above the 
transoms. 

“ Oh, if we had many books, we should n’t have room 
for other things,” and Philip pointed to the cameras, fleld- 
glass, yachting-caps, and other odds and ends that took 
up the most of the shelf-space. “ But come, you must see 
where we keep our charts.” 

Philip opened the door of the little lavatory with its set 
basin and bright faucets, and from one wall removed what 
looked like a flat board. He explained that this was the 
dining-table, which when in use had one end placed on 
a bulkhead at the forward end of the cabin, while the 
other was supported on a pair of legs. 

“ But this is what I wanted to show you,” he said, and 
from the wall behind the table he removed a large port- 
folio, in which were the large charts which he displayed 
with genuine pride. 

“Where do you get your water?” asked Julia, more 
interested in the boat’s appointments than in the chart. 


116 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“ Oh, there ’s a tank in the cock-pit that holds thirty or 
forty gallons. We get the water from a water-boat that 
comes around to the yachts every day. It ’s the cheapest 
thing you ever heard of — something like twenty-five cents 
for fifty gallons.” 

“ Cheap enough! ” said Nora, “but isn’t that your mother 
calling, Brenda? I suppose we ought to go on deck.” 

“Oh, not until we ’ve seen everything,” cried Julia, and 
then, with Philip leading, she followed the others to th6 
door in the bulkhead, and there Philip opened the dish- 
lockers on the port side, and evidently enjoyed their admi- 
ration of the pretty white and gold china with the Club 
and private flags painted in colors, just as on the glass 
tumblers and water pitcher. Beyond, they caught a glimpse 
of the oil stove on which the cooking was done. All 
kinds of cooking utensils, from a frying-pan to an agate 
coffee-pot, hung about on nails. 

“ Everything has its place, and we can put our hands 
on anything in the dark. Jansen makes a fearful row if 
we don’t put things back just where we found them.” 

“ The idea ! ” exclaimed Brenda, “ it is n’t his boat.” 

“ No, but he ’s responsible for its appearance. To be 
perfectly orderly is the only way to get along on a yacht. 

“ There ’s our ice-chest on the starboard side,” continued 
Philip, changing the subject, “ and that iron frame there 
is the folding-bed for the men, which is let down only at 
night. There ’s really nothing more to see there, except 
some light sails and extra robes, and lanterns, and other 
duffle stowed away there in the eyes.” 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


117 


“ Duffle ! ’’ exclaimed Nora, “ what a delicious word ! 
Does it just mean ‘ things ’ ? ” 

“ Yes,” answered Philip, — “ it just means ‘ things.’ ” 

“ ‘ Eyes,’ ” repeated Julia, “ I never heard the word used 
in that sense before.” 

“ I fairly love such words,” added Brenda ; and laughing 
and exclaiming over what they had seen, the girls were 
soon on deck again. 

There they found Tom Hearst, who had just stepped 
from the “Sachem’s” boat, making many apologies to Mrs. 
Barlow for his failure to be on board to- welcome them. 

“ It was something I could n’t help, or you may be sure 
that I should n’t have been away,” and then he turned to 
the girls to hear their praises of the boat. 

“ Here ’s Jansen returning, too,” he exclaimed. “ Now 
we can have a sail.” 

“There’s no reason, is there,” added Philip, “why we 
should n’t sail, just a mile or two — more or less ? ” 

Mrs. Barlow, to whom the question seemed to be ad- 
dressed, hesitated a moment. 

“ I suppose that you would all think me very cruel if I 
should refuse.” 

“ Yes, I am afraid that we might — although of course 
we ’d try not to,” responded Philip, gallantly. 

“Oh, mamma, why shouldn’t we go?” interposed 
Brenda. 

“ There are several reasons, my dear. First of all, I 
mustn’t be away too long from cousin Edward and the 
rest of our guests. Then I am not really very fond of 


118 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


sailing myself, and Julia, I am sure, is hardly equal to a 
rough tossing about. Don’t you think that it will be 
rough, Philip ? ” 

“ As to the last question, Mrs. Barlow, I ’m sure that it 
won’t be rough. The ‘ Balloon ’ will glide like a bird, and 
before you know it, we shall have had a delightful sail. If 
I didn’t feel sure that you and Julia would be perfectly 
comfortable, I would n’t ask you to go.” 

“ But the people on the ‘ Crusoe,’ what will they think 
of us ? ” 

“ Why, they’ve gone outside themselves ! We ’re more 
likely to see them by sailing than by lying at anchor.” 

“Yes, really, Mrs. Barlow, do let us show you what the 
‘ Balloon ’ can do under sail,” and Tom Hearst spoke with 
great earnestness. 

Mrs. Barlow smiled at the eagerness of the two youths. 
“Your last argument was really the strongest, Philip; I 
think myself that we might as well keep our eye to the 
‘ Crusoe.’ I had forgotten that she had deserted us.” 

“ Never mind,” said Philip, “ we ’ll overtake her, and 
make her ashamed of herself.” 

Thus with sails almost full, the “ Balloon ” started out, 
almost like a living creature, as if she felt the spirit of 
emulation that possessed the breasts of her young owners. 

“It doesn’t seem possible that it can be hot on shore,” 
said Nora, as they danced along. 

“No, indeed,” and Julia’s voice had a note of pity in it, 
as she added; “just think of the poor people stifling in 
naiTow streets to-day.” 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


119 


“ Thank you just the same,” said Brenda, “ but I don’t 
care to think of such disagreeable things. Besides the 
only poor family that I know much about has been moved 
to a comfortable country place, and as to the rest of them, 
I mean the poor people in Boston, why I believe that the 
most of them are out on the Common, or in the Park, 
amusing themselves.” 

“You’re more than half right, Brenda,” said Nora, 
“ the Fourth of J uly is really the poor people’s holiday in 
town. I ’ve been in town on the Fourth, and they seem to 
own the whole place.” 

“ Do you suppose that that is the ‘ Crusoe ’ ? ” asked 
Julia, looking eagerly at a yacht still so far ahead of them 
as to look but a small boat. 

“ If it is, she ’ll soon hear from us,” said Philip, “ for 
we ’re going to overtake her sure.” 

Now for some reason or other the wind seemed to favor 
the “ Balloon,” or perhaps, as the boys modestly suggested, 
it was because they and their skipper showed superior 
seamanship. Whatever the cause, after tacking about for 
some time, to the great edification of Fritz, they met the 
“ Crusoe,” just as she began to turn about. 

“ That was n’t bad for a small boat,” cried Tom, “ now 
you can have an idea of what we might do, if we really 
should try to accomplish anything.” 

Hats and handkerchiefs were waved on both boats, as 
they passed, not near enough for actual speaking. On the 
home stretch, however, the ‘‘ Crusoe ” made the better 
time, and she rounded the Point with the lighthouse some 
minutes ahead of the “ Balloon. ” 


120 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


Contrary to her own expectation, Julia had not been 
uncomfortable on this her first trip on a sail-boat. In the 
society of her friends, too, she had forgotten half her fears. 
Nevertheless, had anyone asked her to tell the exact truth, 
she would have confessed that she would just a little 
rather be on dry land than on water. 

How different it was with Ani}^! With her veil tied 
tightly over her hair, with a cape that the boys brought 
up from the cabin thrown over her shoulders, sitting on 
the floor of the deck with her back braced against the 
cabin, she enjoyed every minute. This was something 
that she had never hoped to enjoy, to have a sail in a real 
yacht — and she might have added “ with real people,” so 
seldom had it been her good fortune to have the society 
of young persons of her own age. 

There was certainly a dreamy look in Amy’s eyes as she 
sat there, and Fritz, noticing it, as he passed her once, 
leaned over and whispered, — 

“ Writing a poem, Amy ? ” 

At this Amy reddened, for Fritz had come pretty near 
the truth. If she was not actually composing a poem, she 
was planning one. She was thinking that there was 
almost no other object so beautiful as the sea: — 

“ The sea ! the sea ! the open sea ! 

The blue, the fresh, the ever free ! 

Without a mark, without a bound, 

It runneth the earth’s wide region round. 

It plays with the clouds, it mocks the skies, — 

Or like a cradled creature lies.” 

Fritz sometimes said that Amy had a quotation ready 
for every occasion, and it was certainly true that she could 







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BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


121 


often find one ready to use, when she had an apprecia- 
tive audience. This appreciative audience usually con- 
sisted only of her mother, although Fritz had begun to 
acquire what he called a “ poetic ear,” and, in spite of his 
occasionally scoffing tone, he really did get great comfort 
from some of the poems which Amy liked the best. When 
it came to her original verses, however, she was less con- 
fidential with Fritz. He knew that she wrote poetry, 
because he had more than once come upon her when 
engaged in this entrancing occupation. Once or twice, 
too, when he had seemed to be in an appreciative mood, 
she had read some of her work to him. But she was will- 
ing to admit that she was once so annoyed with him for 
laughing at one of her particularly lofty sentiments, that 
since that time she had refused to let him near or see 
any more of her original poems. It was to punish her, 
then, that Fritz, whenever he saw a certain dreamy ex- 
pression on her usually wide-awake face, would make 
some teasing allusion to her own poetic efforts. 

While Julia and Amy were rather quiet, the quietest 
of the young people on the “ Balloon,” Nora and Brenda 
and the two sophomores, or rather juniors, kept up a gay 
chattering. The scraps of conversation that floated to Mrs. 
Barlow’s ears often drew an involuntary smile. 

“ It may have been so in my day,” she said to herself, 
“ but still I do think that the young people of the present 
day are more frivolous than they need be. They ought to be 
an improvement over their parents. Surely their advan- 
tages are greater. I wonder if Brenda will ever take life 


122 


BRENDANS SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


seriously.” Then, as a peal of laughter came from the 
quartette in the bow, Mrs. Barlow herself smiled again. 

Amy, meanwhile, had turned from poetic thoughts to 
the more practical. One was the cost of the row-boat that 
she and Fritz had hired by the hour soon after reaching 
Marblehead in the early afternoon. They had meant to 
keep it an hour, or an hour and a half at the most, but now 
Amy trembled to think what the bill would be, and she 
wondered if the man from whom they had hired the boat, 
from their long absence might not think that some accident 
had befallen them, or that they had made way with 
the boat. Then there was the question of her mother ; 
what would she think if they failed to meet her ! Half-past 
five was to be the time, and how strange it would seem to 
Mrs. Redmond to wait out there by the Fort looking vainly 
for Amy and Fritz. But still, even her reflection on this 
did not prevent her enjoying the present pleasure. Tom 
had taken up his mandolin, and Philip his banjo, and the 
quartette was singing one college chorus after another. 

“ Said the pussy cat to the owl, oh, what ’ll you take to drink, 

Said the pussy cat to the owl, oh, what ’ll you take to drink. 

Since you are so very kind, I ’ll take a bottle of ink.” 

Brenda had her camera under her arm, and aimed rather 
extravagantly now at distant objects, a boat at full sail, or 
a rocky headland, now at some of her friends on the boat. 
The latter were often in shadow, and there was no doubt 
that Brenda was wasting a great deal of film. But economy 
had never been one of Brenda’s strong points. 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


123 


“The racers are coming in, the racers are coming in!’^ 
cried Fritz, excitedly, from his place on the deck near the 
stern, where he had been watching every movement of the 
scattered fleet. 

The two leading boats soon appeared, close together, 
with all their kites drawing beautifully. They made a 
very close finish, the winner only crossing the line a few 
seconds ahead of her rival. As soon as they crossed the 
line, both boats luffed up in the wind, and all light sails 
were taken in. They then proceeded slowly to their own 
moorings, while the others came in not many minutes later. 
The finish line was between two flags moored in the harbor, 
so that the judges on the piazzas of the Club-house could 
tell exactly when a boat crossed the line. When the win- 
ning-boat crossed the line, a gun from the Club-house 
sounded, but this was the only noise that marked the end 
of the race. 

“ It is n’t quite as exciting as I thought it would be,” said 
Julia, “ I suppose one needs to know a great deal about 
boats to feel much interest in a sailing race.” 

“ I tell you what — you ought to have been here this 
morning for the water sports; they would have been excit- 
ing enougli for you, I am sure.” 

“ Oh, tell us about them ! ” cried Nora. “ I ’ve never hap- 
pened to see them myself.” 

“Well, this morning they had a hobby-horse race. The 
hobby-horses were barrels, with a long stick run through 
them — a head at one end, a tail at the other, and the men 
who rode them wore bathing-suits, and the barrels rolled 


124 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


over, and they were tumbled in the water. Then there 
were tub races, — the men, you know, kneel in the tubs, 
and paddle with their hands ; and there was water baseball 
— but there, you ’ve missed the sports, and the only thing 
is to make up your minds to be in Marblehead Harbor next 
Fourth of July, and take in everything.” 

“ There, that ’s the ‘ Crusoe ’ at her moorings,” exclaimed 
Fritz, who had been watching a yacht some distance away. 

“Then we must bid you good-bye, Philip,” said Mrs. 
Barlow, rising. “ Cousin Edward may feel that we have 
been away too long.” 

“ I wish that you could stay longer ; but I know that you 
would call us altogether too selfish if we kept you longer. 
But we won’t send you home in the launch. You shall go, 
two by two, in the row-boat, and that will keep some of 
you here at least a half-hour longer.” 

Thus it happened that while Tom rowed Brenda and 
Nora out to the “Crusoe,” Mrs. Barlow and Julia lingered 
a little longer on the “ Balloon.” Amy and Fritz took 
their departure before Tom returned, with many thanks to 
Philip for the pleasant afternoon. 

To Amy’s surprise when they went to pay for the boat, 
the bill was much less than she had feared. 

“But even if it had been more,” said Fritz, “I could 
have stood it. We’ve had more than our money’s worth 
of fun, have n’t we ?” 

Promptly at half-past five the two young people were 
ready to meet Mrs. Redmond at the appointed place. 

They ate the luncheon which she had brought with a 


BKENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


125 


good appetite. The cakes and lemonade that had been 
served them on the “Balloon,” had satisfied their hunger 
only for the time being. For the picnic repast which Mrs. 
Redmond had prepared they chose a sheltered nook near 
Fort Sewall, and they sat there on the heights until after 
the sunset gun, watching with delight the illumination 
of the yachts in the harbor, and the fireworks sent up from 
the shore. Mrs. Redmond listened with great interest to 
their description of the “ Balloon,” and rejoiced that Amy 
had had this red-letter day. 

The Rockley young people wound up the day veiy 
delightfully on the “ Crusoe.” At Mr. Elston’s urgent 
invitation, Tom and Philip deserted the “ Balloon ” for the 
larger boat. 

A few minutes before sunset the girls noticed a sailor 
standing by the halyards of each yacht within sight. 
Then when the sunset gun was heard, every flag was 
pulled down, and the night-hawks went up in their place. 
Gradually at the bow of each yacht appeared its light, and, 
as it grew darker, other lights were seen in the rigging. 
Some of the larger boats had their whole decks outlined 
with electric lights, and the whole scene was one of great 
beauty. 

When the girls expressed their admiration for the electric 
lights, Philip regretted that they had n’t an electric plant 
on the “ Balloon.” 

“ There ’s only one little storage battery for the light in 
the binnacle. But who knows what we may have next 
year. Anything to please you,” he whispered mischiev- 


126 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


ously to Julia, for he knew that remarks of this kind 
always teased her a little. 

Soon all the cottages facing the harbor, as well as the 
great club houses, were gleaming with Japanese lanterns, 
bonfires blazed up here and there, and the sky was almost 
aflame with rockets and other fireworks. 

“ It ’s too beautiful to last I ” cried Julia. 

“ W ell, as we won’t see the end of it, we can imagine 
that it is going to last. Come, girls, come, we must bid 
good-night to cousin Edward.” 

So, in a short time, the Rockley party, girls, guests, and 
Mr. and Mrs. Barlow, found themselves driving homeward 
along a dark road. The Fourth was over. 


X 


TWO CALLS 

Just after The Fourth came one of those scorching 
weeks when even at the seashore people had all they 
could do to keep cool. Until late in the afternoon the 
girls stayed in the darkened house, with the windows 
well shaded by blinds and awnings. Only toward even- 
ing would they go down to the sea, and then how delicious 
the plunge in the cool water, the rapid race along the 
sands when they came out, and the ten or fifteen minutes 
while they sat on the beach ! 

“ When are we going to call on Amy ? ” asked Julia one 
day, as the three sat there resting for a few minutes before 
proceeding to the bath-house. 

“ As soon as the weather is cooler. I don’t see anyway 
why she should n’t call on us sometime on her way to the 
beach. She comes over nearly every day. I don’t think 
that girls of our age ought to be too ceremonious.” 

Julia and Nora laughed at Brenda’s rather plaintive 
tone. 

“ The warm weather seems to have got into your voice. 
But I thought that you were rather a believer in ceremony, 
Brenda. I ’ve often heard you scold about girls who did 
not return calls properly.” 


128 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“Oh, in summer it’s different! We can’t be expected 
to be polite when the thermometer keeps in the neighbor- 
hood of a hundred or two all the time.” 

“ Yes, but still you could drive toward the end of any 
afternoon, and Amy struck me as the kind of a girl one 
wouldn’t wish to offend.” 

“ The idea ! a girl who lives in a little bit of a house 
like the one she lives in. Oh, no, she won’t be so easily 
offended ! ” 

This seemed to be the old Brenda of the preceding 
winter, and Julia looked at her cousin in some surprise. 

Presently, when no reply had been made to her last 
speech, Brenda continued, “ But I ’m perfectly ready to 
go to-morrow, for you see I ought to take back that 
‘ Faery Queen.’ I caught you looking at it this morning, 
and the next thing you ’ll be wanting to read it aloud to 
me. I could n’t stand that, and so the best way to prevent 
it will be to take the book back.” 

“Very well,” said Julia, “to return the book will be 
a very good excuse for calling.” 

“ Why do we need an excuse ? ” 

“Well, Amy has n’t actually invited us, only it certainly 
would be the proper thing to do.” 

“ But would n’t it be just as proper for her to call after 
having been out on the yacht?” asked Nora. 

“Yes, but I have an idea that she is timid about coming. 
You see we are summer people, and she — ” 

“ She just lives up on that back road all the year. Just 
fancy ! It must be terribly dreary.” 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


129 


“She isn’t at all a dreary sort of girl,” rejoined Julia. 
“ She seems to have read everything worth reading. I 
suppose that ’s because she has studied at home with her 
mother. Next year she ’s going to the High School at 
Salem, she told me.” 

“ I ’d like her very much, more than almost any one I 
know,” said Brenda, “ if she were n’t quite so snubbing. 
I wish you could have seen how shocked she looked when 
she found that I admired the novels of ‘ The Countess.’ 
Really I did feel small when she handed back one to me 
that I had dropped over there on the rocks.” 

“ It served you right, Brenda Barlow ; those novels are 
trash, and I believe that you know that they are. Why 
I don’t profess to read very deep things, but I would n’t 
waste my time over ‘ The Countess.’ Besides, I thought 
that your mother did n’t care to have you do it; hasn’t she 
forbidden you ? ” 

Brenda flushed a little angrily. “ My mother never 
forbids me to do anything. She says that I must learn 
the difference between right and wrong myself.” 

“ Come now, Brenda, she does n’t expect you to choose 
the wrong, does she ? ” 

Nora could venture farther with Brenda than most of 
her friends. But this time Brenda was almost offended 
with her. 

“As I told Julia the other day, if my mother wishes, she 
can make a bonfire of all my novels ; there are n’t so very 
many of them. They’re all there in plain sight on my 
book-shelf. I should n’t think of hiding them.” 


130 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“ If I were you, I would n’t read them either. They ’re 
so silly, so untrue to life.” 

“ How do you know, Nora ? You ’ve never been in 
England, or Ireland either. The scene of some of them 
is in Ireland. That ’s what I like about them. There ’s 
nothing common or ordinary about them. Almost every- 
one lives in a castle, or ought to, because some of them are 
people who have been kept out of their own. But the 
stories always end well, — that is, almost always, — and 
when they happen to be sad, really they would make you 
cry. I ’ve cried and cried over some of them.” 

“ Really, Brenda, I ’d try to find something better worth 
crying over,” said Nora, ‘‘something better than a mere 
trashy novel.” 

“ Oh, but the people in these books of ‘ The Countess ’ 
seem just like real people, and the girls are always such 
perfect beauties that when things go wrong, you feel 
terribly for them. But generally they get their fortune 
back again, or they marry a rich man; I hate sad endings.” 

“ Give me the ‘ Faery Queen ’ every time,” cried Nora, 
“though I ’ve never read it. I must talk to your friend 
Amy about it.” 

The result of the conversation was that a day or two 
later the three girls set off to make the call on Amy. 
Brenda was inclined to go — as Nora expressed it — “ in 
style,” that is, wearing her best India silk gown, and her 
most elaborate hat. But Julia and Nora finally persuaded 
her that it would be much better to go in simpler array, so 
■that the call might not seem too formal. The day which 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


131 


they chose was the first cool day after the long, hot spell, 
and they were able to go in cloth walking skirts, with 
pretty silk waists and fresh gloves to give them a more 
formal aspect than was usual in their summer costumes. 

Brenda had yielded to the other girls in the matter of 
walking. 

“ Really, we have been almost like prisoners during this 
warm season ; I have hardly set foot olf the piazza,” said 
Nora ; “ I ’m dying for fresh air and exercise.” 

“But you Ve been driving nearly every evening.” 

“ Oh, yes, Brenda, but still that is not the same thing 
at all. A long walk will do us good. Do say yes, for I ’m 
sure that you ’ll enjoy it, too.” 

“ I ’d rather go on my wheel.” 

“ Oh, it ’s too warm for that, besides we ’d get so very 
dusty. Come, J ulia ’s in favor of walking, so you ’ll have 
to give in.” 

“ Oh, very well, as long as the sun is n’t very bright. 
I hate to walk in the sun.” 

The walk toward the road where Amy lived was a 
pleasant one. It lay along a cross road that was little 
more than a lane. The trees on each side almost met 
overhead, and along the sides was the thick growth of 
flowering bushes which always surprises visitors to the 
Massachusetts North Shore. 

“ I never can get used to finding all these lovely things 
so near the sea-shore,” cried Julia; “why, one could al- 
most stand with one foot in the ocean, and the other rest- 
ing on a bank of wild flowers such as would be looked for 


132 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


only in the country. See how may different kinds I have 
here,” and Julia began to tell them off : “ wild roses, St. 
John’s- wort. Why don’t you gather some, Brenda ; they ’d 
be lovely on the table this evening.” 

“ Perhaps I will on my way home. I don’t want 
to take off my gloves now. They’re so very hard to 
fasten.” 

Nora, however, followed Julia’s example, and they soon 
had two large bunches of wild flowers, including more 
than a dozen different kinds. 

Amy saw the three friends as they approached the 
house. She was hulling strawberries, and this, you know, 
is a kind of work that stains the fingers rather hopelessly. 
She was seated on the side-steps with the bowl on her lap, 
as the girls drew near, and her first impulse was almost to 
throw it with its ruddy contents one side. Sensible girl 
though she was, she did not like to have them find her 
engaged in what she considered a half-menial occupation. 
Instead of yielding to the foolish impulse, however, she 
did the more sensible thing, and advanced with the bowl 
in her hand. She knew that they must have seen her 
from the road, and had she permitted them to ring the 
door-bell, she knew that they would have had to wait 
some time before she could enter the house to answer it. 

“ Oh, can’t we sit here with you ? ” cried Brenda cor- 
dially, “ there ’s room for one of us on the step, and those 
two dear little chairs,” — and she pointed to two at some 
distance back of the house, — “ will be just the thing for 
the others.” 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


133 


Before she had finished speaking, Nora and Julia had 
brought forward the chairs. They were painted a dark- 
green, the same shade as the doors and fence. Soon the 
four girls were chatting as gayly as only girls of fifteen can 
chat, and Amy went on with her task as composedly as if 
her visitors had been old friends. They talked of the jolly 
time they had had on The Fourth; and Brenda gave 
Amy the special invitation which Mrs. Barlow had sent, 
that she should come down soon to Rockley to spend the 
day. 

“If my mother can spare me, and I know she will, I 
shall be perfectly delighted,” responded Amy. Her face 
beamed with pleasure. It was not often that she had an 
invitation of this kind, and she knew that a day with 
Brenda and her friends would be very delightful. 

“How fine it must be,” exclaimed Nora, “to be so use- 
ful in a family that you could n’t accept an invitation 
until you knew whether or not you could be spared ! In 
all my life I ’ve never reached that height,” said Nora. 

There was always a ring of sincerity in Nora’s voice 
that even strangers recognized, and Amy saw that Nora 
meant just what she said. 

“ I hope that I did n’t sound as if I thought myself of 
too much importance,” she said. But you know we do 
not keep any regular girl, and we have an old cousin living 
with us who needs much attention, and sometimes, when 
mamma is busy, I feel as if I ought not to leave her.” 

This was rather a long speech for Amy, and she was not 
in the habit of explaining her affairs so fully to people. 


184 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


But in thinking about her acquaintance with these girls, 
she had decided that frankness was much the best thing. 

“ They must know that I am poor, or I would n’t be 
living in this little house, and they might as well know 
that I am not in the least ashamed of it.” Now all this was 
in the line of the training that Amy had received from her 
mother. Yet I am not sure but that Mrs. Redmond might 
have thought that she was going a little farther than was 
absolutely necessary. 

“ There,” said Brenda, when Amy had finished speak- 
ing, “ there is one thing that I ’m almost sure that you 
will have to come to our house for, that is, if you ever 
wish to see it again, — your ‘ Faery Queen.’ ” 

“ Why, yes,” said Amy, “ I had almost forgotten it.” 

“ Well, I meant to bring it to-day. Why I started out 
to call on you almost expressly to bring it ! How in the 
world did I forget it, Julia? ” 

“ It does seem rather strange for you to forget anything, 
Brenda.” 

“ Oh, but it does n’t matter,” interposed Amy. 

“ On the whole, I ’m not sorry, because you ’ll be sure 
now to come for it.” 

“ I ’d be sure to accept your invitation. But now I want 
you to come into the house for a while ; these chairs must 
be very uncomfortable.” 

Showing the three callers into the pleasant sitting-room, 
Amy excused herself to take the tray with the bowl of 
berries and the saucer of hulls out to the kitchen. She 
returned, plaintively holding up her hands. 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROClvLEY 


135 


“ But the stain of the strawberry hangs o’er me still.” 

“That sounded like poetry,” said Julia. “Are you a 
poet, as well as a housekeeper ? ” Julia was two years 
older than Amy, and there may have seemed to be just 
the least tinge of patronage, or older girlishness in her 
voice. Whatever it was, it caused Amy to answer a rather 
curt “ No,” and made the other girls exchange glances. 
Amy herself was almost immediately ashamed of her 
momentary petulance. How often had her mother warned 
her that she must curb her quick temper, and here she 
was ready to flare up at — why, at nothing ! As amends 
for this, she now made great efforts to entertain her 
guests. She showed them a portfolio containing her 
mother’s watercolor sketches of wild flowers; and when 
the girls expressed their admiration, she added, “ Mother 
does n’t like to do flower and nature sketches.” 

“ Oh, I should think she ’d be just crazy to ; why these 
flowers are just perfect ! ” Brenda’s admiration was very 
genuine. 

“Perhaps there is something else that she does even 
better,” suggested Julia. 

“Well, I think that her portraits are better; she can 
make the funniest little sketches of people. Sometime, 
perhaps, she ’ll let me show you some that she has done. 
Those are miniatures of hers on the mantelpiece.” 

Again came a series of “ ohs ” and “ ahs ” of admiration 
from the girls. 

“ Don’t say it is n’t like me,” cried Amy, as Brenda and 
Nora bent over one of them. “ I know that I am idealized 


136 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


in it ; but when I feel low-spirited, I gaze at it, and try to 
imagine that I look like that.” 

“Low-spirited,” — surely that was a rather old-fashioned 
word for a girl of fifteen; at least Julia thought so, as she 
stole a rather searching glance at Amy. 

Cousin Joan, from her little room upstairs, heard the 
laughing voices, and wondered who these visitors could 
be. Amy was not in the habit of entertaining young girls, 
and the invalid spent a long half hour speculating about 
them. Before they left, it had been arranged tliat Amy 
was to come over to Rockley early the following week. 

“No, you needn’t send for me,” she had protested 
when Brenda said that Thomas and the carryall should 
come for her. “ In the morning I should enjoy the walk. 
Perhaps in the afternoon you will feel like driving me 
home.” 

“Why, of course,” said Brenda. “I would n’t think 
of letting you come back alone.” 

Just as the three started to bid Amy good-bye, Mrs. 
Redmond came back from Salem, where she had had to 
go on business. She was pleased to meet the girls about 
whom Amy had told her so much, and she quickly gave 
her consent to Amy’s acceptance of the invitation. 

“ Amy, Amy ! ” called cousin Joan, as the three friends 
waved their farewell as they disappeared down the road. 
“ Amy, I wish that you ’d come right upstairs ; I ’ve 
been in an almost suffering state. It must be suppertime ; 
but you were so much taken up with your company that 
of course you hadn’t a thought for me.” 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


137 


Fortunately the truthful Amy did not feel called upon 
to make a reply. If she had said anything, it would prob- 
ably have been that she really had not thought of cousin 
Joan during the stay of her visitors. 

To make up for her negligence, she now moved about the 
room quietly, adjusting the blinds, arranging the pillows, 
and doing everything that she could to make her comfort- 
able. She also gratified the old lady’s curiosity by describ- 
ing the girls who had just left, and she made her account 
so entertaining that cousin Joan was evidently gratified, 
although she sniffed a little as if slightly scornful, and 
said, “Brenda Barlow, Mr. Robert Barlow’s daughter! 
Oh, yes, it will only make you discontented to know 
people like that. You ’ll be wanting to do as they do, and 
you can’t. If I was your mother, I would n’t let you visit 
them. You can’t have a carriage and pair, and a yacht, 
and all those things.” 

Amy, for a moment, was tempted to make some scoffing 
reply, but her second thoughts were better, and remember- 
ing that cousin Joan was shut out from most of the 
pleasant things of life, she hastened downstairs to prepare 
the invalid’s tea ; and when she and her mother had finished 
their own evening meal downstairs, she returned to cousin 
Joan’s room to read to her for an hour. 

Cousin Joan was an inheritance that JV{rs. Redmond 
and Amy were hardly entitled to. She was a half-cousin 
of Mrs. Redmond’s father, and, to be perfectly frank, 
Mrs. Redmond was not bound to her by any strong ties 
of affection or gratitude. In her own girlhood, the mother 


188 BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 

of Amy had seen this relative only two or three times, 
as her home was in a distant state. But about the time 
of Mr. Redmond’s death, cousin Joan had been left 
a widow with a small income, — so small that it was 
hardly enough for her to live on. Returning to her native 
place, she had suggested to Mrs. Redmond that it might 
he a good plan for them to live together. “My board 
will be something to you, and I will have more of a 
home than I could in a boarding-house. Besides, I 
can look after Amy when you are busy, and I’m 
quite a good hand at needlework.” 

The plan really had appealed to Mrs. Redmond, and, 
if everything had gone as they planned, cousin Joan, 
instead of being a burden, would have been a great help. 
But, first of all, through a bad investment, her income 
was reduced about half. “ Of course, if you say so, Lucy, 
I ’ll go to the poorhouse,” she had said, with tears in her 
eyes ; and of course Mrs. Redmond had said that she must 
not talk so foolishly. 

“ You are company for me, and you can do many little 
things for me. The loss of your money needn’t make 
the least difference, as far as I am concerned.” 

But one trouble after another came to cousin Joan. 
First, her general health failed, and a good part of her 
little stipend went to pay doctors’ bills. Then her eyes 
became almost useless, and she could no longer sew. But 
it was not Mrs. Redmond who complained, nor even Amy, 
whose feet grew very tired sometimes, running up and 
down stairs at the sick woman’s behest. 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


139 


“ She has really no one else to live with,” Mrs. Redmond 
had said once or twice to people who had suggested that 
the care of an invalid was too great for the mother and 
daughter to bear without aid. “She has really no one 
else to live with, and it would be very hard for one who 
has seen better days to live in an institution.” 

“ Sometimes I wish that she had never seen better days, 
she has so much to say about them. But that would n’t 
be so bad if she would n’t try to interfere with me. Really, 
it seems sometimes as if she thought that this was her 
house, and we only boarders.” 

“ Remember, my dear, that she is an old woman,” 
Mrs. Redmond had replied, “and that it is very hard 
to be old and sick and poor.” 

“ I know that it ’s hard to be poor,” Amy had answered, 
“ but — ” 

“ But then be thankful that you are not old and sick, 
too, and be considerate for those who are.” 

It was no wonder that the three girls, after their visit 
to Amy, said that they thought that Mrs. Redmond had 
a face that seemed “ full of goodness.” This was Nora’s 
rather quaint wording, and the others agreed with her, 
while Julia added, “ You might not call her beautiful. 
Aunt Anna, and yet it seemed to me that a very beauti- 
ful disposition showed in every line of her face.” 

“ And she must be very talented, too ; her pictures 
were lovely,” added Brenda. 

“Amy Redmond?” queried Mr. Elston, who happened 
to be dining with the Barlows that evening, “ is that 


140 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


the name of the young girl you had with you on the 
Fourth?” 

“ Yes, is n’t it a pretty name.” 

For a moment Mr. Elston’s mind seemed to be wander- 
ing. Then he replied, half absent-mindedly, “It’s an 
odd combination.” 

Now, if time permitted, it would be pleasant to give 
you a full account of the day that Amy spent at Brenda’s 
house. To Amy, it was like a glimpse of Fairy Land, first, 
to be relieved for a whole day of all domestic care, and 
second, to have a glimpse of a household living as luxuri- 
ously as that of Mr. and Mrs. Barlow. To Amy at least 
the large house with its furnishings and decorations so 
suited to summer comfort, the three or four domestics who 
kept things in running order, the well-shorn lawn and the 
garden beds full of flowers, made a whole that seemed 
almost too delightful to be real. She noted the many 
simple, though well-chosen pictures on the wall, the low 
book-shelves filled with books, and when she sat on 
Brenda’s little balcony looking seaward, she said in her 
rather serious tone, “ I wonder if you know how fortunate 
you are to have a home so beautiful as this! I have 
never seen anything like it. The hedge in front always 
hid it from view, and I did not dream that there was 
such a fairy palace behind it.” 

Brenda laughed in her lightest-hearted way. 

“ Oh, you ought to see some of the houses farther 
down the Shore, at Beverly, or Pride’s ! Our grounds 
are insignificant compared with Edith’s, and our house 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


141 


could almost be set inside hers. But of course I know 
that ours is very attractive. It’s a good situation.” 

“ I should say so,” replied Amy ; “ you certainly ought 
to be very happy.” 

“ That sounds as if you would like to add ‘ and very 
good,’ ” said Brenda, again smiling. “ But you ’ll find, 
if you know me well, that I ’m not particularly good.” 

“I shouldn’t wonder if you were good enough,” re- 
joined Amy. Although she may have seen some things 
to criticise in Brenda, she still had a strong liking for 
this new friend of hers. Brenda, on her part, had the 
rather strange sensation of wishing to gain the approba- 
tion of another girl. It was not the same feeling that 
she had sometimes had at school when she found herself 
trying by various little methods (in which liberality in 
spending money at recess, and generosity in buying birth- 
day and Christmas presents played a large part) to attain 
a reputation for popularity. Even had she known that 
the next day would be the birthday of Amy, she would 
hardly have dared to make her a present. But she did 
feel anxious to stand well in her estimation. It was on 
this account, probably, that she threw an uneasy glance 
at her visitor, as the latter paused for a moment, in 
passing through her room, to look at her book-shelves. 
What if she should take down one of those paper-bound 
volumes! A regret flashed through her mind that she 
had not put them away in her closet. 

But although Brenda had bidden Amy make herself 
perfectly at home, the latter would not have ventured 


142 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


to take down one of the books without a special invi- 
tation. The glance that she gave them was so rapid 
that she did not read the titles. Brenda gave a sigh of 
relief as they passed from the room. She had begun 
to question her own wisdom in keeping “The Countess” 
in so conspicuous a place. 

If Amy enjoyed the day at Rockley, the three girls 
and Mrs. Barlow were delighted with her. 

“Really,” said Mrs. Barlow, “you have told me things 
about this neighborhood that I have never known, al- 
though I have spent so many summers here. I shall 
never drive through Swampscott now without thinking 
of Lady Humphrey. You say that the name of the long 
street- running to Marblehead came from Lady Humphrey, 
and that she and her husband once owned all the country 
about us. I dare say that you know more about the 
town of Marblehead itself than Brenda does ” 

“ Oh, yes, I ’m sure of that,” interposed Brenda. 
“ She told me quantities of interesting things the other 
day on the ‘ Balloon.’ I begin to feel almost like Julia, 
I am so anxious to explore it.” 

“Then you will probably approve of a plan I have 
had come through my mind while Amy has been talk- 
ing. It seems to me that it would be delightful if she 
would go with you some day soon to Marblehead, and 
tell you what she knows about some of the old houses.” 

Mrs. Barlow looked inquiringly at Amy, and the young 
girl responded brightly, “I should be very glad indeed 
to do it.” 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


143 


“Oh, yes,” added Brenda. “We could have lots of 
fun out of it, I am sure.” 

“ Of course you know, Mrs. Barlow, that I simply 
know the things that are in books that I have read, or 
that my mother has read to me. I can tell Brenda 
where to find the same things. Perhaps she would rather 
read them for herself.” 

“Oh, no, indeed; I’ve always noticed that people who 
write history manage to make .their books frightfully 
uninteresting. I’m afraid that I shouldn’t know much, 
if I had to dig it out of books myself.” 

“Ah, Brenda, why will you make yourself out to be 
so much worse than you are. Amy will think that 
Boston school girls receive a strange education. Some 
of us do like history,” and Nora looked appealingly from 
Brenda to Amy. 

The outcome of this suggestion of Mrs. Barlow’s was 
the appointing of a day for the four girls to spend together 
at Marblehead. Brenda was delighted when she found 
that no older person was to accompany them. 

“ Marblehead is a quiet place,” said her mother, “and if 
I did not believe that you could be trusted, I should not 
think of letting you go, older person or no older person 
with you.” 

“ Why, Aunt Anna, am I not an older person ? ” asked 
Julia, “if you like, I will take charge of everything.” 

“No, I thank you,” interposed Brenda, “you needn’t 
take charge of me. Mother’s plan of letting us take care 
of ourselves is the best one.” 


144 


BRENDA’S SUxMMER AT ROCKLEY 


Julia saw at once that she had made a mistake, since 
Brenda had not yet outgrown her rather childish fear that 
some one might try to have undue authority. She there- 
fore hastened to say, — 

“ It is you, Brenda, who must have charge of me. You 
know ever so much more about this coast than I do.” 

“ Well, I expect you all to learn a great deal,” said Mrs. 
Barlow, “ otherwise I should not encourage your going to 
Marblehead. ” 


XI 


THE PILGEIMAGB 

The only person who seemed to disapprove of the in- 
timacy between Amy and the three girls of the Barlow 
household was Fritz. It was hardly to be expected that 
a boy could be included in expeditions in which the girls 
would outnumber him, four to one. In fact, had he been 
regularly invited, Fritz would probably have declined to 
go about with a lot of girls. But he did resent the fact 
that Amy had been taken away from him. Whenever she 
could be spared from home, she was sure to go down to 
the beach, or over to Mrs. Barlow’s house, to spend an hour 
or two with Brenda. Really, it was unbearable ! This at 
least was the point of view of Fritz, who began to feel 
rather aggrieved when on three successive days he had 
failed to find Amy at home when he called. On one of 
these occasions he had run upstairs to talk with cousin 
Joan, and he had found her equally dissatisfied. She did 
not see why Amy need be always going off for amusement. 
“ I ’m sure she has her books, and her piano, and when her 
mother is out, I am always here, so that she can’t say that 
she has n’t any one to talk to.” Poor cousin Joan ! in all her 
life she had never been able to put herself in the place of 
any one else. She expected the other person, old or young, 

10 


146 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


to see things exactly as she did, that is, to stand in her 
place. 

But one good thing came from Fritz’s visit to her. He 
took up a book which lay, on the little table beside her, and 
offered to read for a half hour. The half hour lengthened 
to an hour, and at its end cousin Joan decided that after 
all there might be a little good in boys, — at least in some 
boys, and she almost smiled on Fritz when he laid down 
the “ History of Our Own Times,” after his hour of work. 
Possibly he would not have read so long, and so willingly, 
had not the book itself really interested him. He found it 
surprisingly entertaining “for a history,” as he said to 
cousin Joan, and privately he resolved to find out if his 
uncle had n’t a copy at home. 

“ I wonder if Mrs. Redmond is very busy now,” he said, 
when he had finished. 

“ She ’s in the studio ; you might go and see,” answered 
cousin Joan; and Fritz excused himself to find Amy’s 
mother. Though dignified by the name “studio,” the 
room where Mrs. Redmond worked was a small apart- 
ment, and its only really artistic property was its northern 
window. This was rather large, and in the good light 
Mrs. Redmond spent many hours working every day. 
Many of her flower sketches, fastened to colored car- 
tridge paper, were tacked around the wall, and the easel 
at which she was working, had a thoroughly business- 
like air. 

She welcomed Fritz cordially, and laughed at him a 
little when, almost without meaning to do so, he disclosed 


BRENDANS SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


147 


the fact that he was rather jealous of the new friends, who 
took Amy away from him. 

“ Amy cares just as much for you as ever ; but it is so 
pleasant for her to have the companionship of girls of her 
own age that she cannot be blamed for spending all the 
time she can with them.” 

“I shouldn’t suppose that you could spare her so much,” 
murmured Fritz, a little crossly. “ Now when I am around, 
she can go on with whatever she is doing, just the same. 
But I rather think that Miss Baiio# would be surprised if 
she were asked to wait around and help with the dishes. 
Of course I never mind things like that.” 

Mrs. Redmond again laughed at the doleful tone and 
expression assumed by Fritz. 

“You are certainly not feeling very happy to-day, are 
you ? ” 

“Well, it’s no fun. I came over this afternoon ex- 
pressly to invite Amy to go down to Lynn with me to- 
morrow. My uncle has an errand there. But I suppose 
that it is n’t any use for me to ask her. She probably has 
an engagement with Miss Barlow.” 

“ Well, Fritz, it does happen to be the day that they 
have chosen for their expedition to Marblehead. Amy 
calls it a Pilgrimage, and she expects to enjoy it very 
much. She is going to point out most of the objects 
of interest, or, in other words, the famous houses to the 
girls.” 

“ She ’d better read them some of her own poetry. 
They ’d probably enjoy it.” 


148 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“ Oh, no, indeed, I ’m sure that she would n’t do that. 
Amy is very sensitive about her own verses. She hardly 
ever reads any of them to me.” 

“Well, then I’m rather lucky. I have several things 
that she has given me. You know I think it ’s just great 
for a girl to be able to write the way she does. Well, I 
suppose that it ’s no use to wait for her, especially as 
she can’t go with me,” and Fritz, bidding Mrs. Redmond 
good-bye, went downstairs. As he passed the door of 
the sitting-room, a sudden thought seized him, and he 
went to the little desk belonging to Amy, which stood 
in one corner. A large book lay on top of it, and, 
opening the covers, he took out several loose sheets of 
paper. 

“ The very thing,” he exclaimed, and he folded up the 
sheets, and placed them in his pocket. 

Now on the Thursday of their expedition to Marblehead, 
the four girls were especially favored by the weather. It 
was one of those gray days that occasionally come in 
summer; the kind of day when a photographer knows 
the instantaneous views are out of question, and yet the 
kind of day that persons fond of out-door life welcome 
heartily. They know that they can walk or ride or wheel 
almost as comfortably as in autumn. 

“Are all the young people in Marblehead dead?” 
asked Nora, frivolously, as they stood at the head of a 
narrow hilly street. 

“ What a question I ” Brenda’s voice sounded just a 
little impatient. 


BRENDA'S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


149 


“But now really I am in earnest. You must have 
noticed how many old men and old women we see, and 
quantities of children. But I have n’t seen a really 
young-looking man or woman either yet.” 

“Just wait until noon. When the whistle sounds, 
you ’ll see them pouring out of the factories. You know 
that there are a great many factories in Marblehead. 
Then, of course, it’s such an old place that a great 
many people like to go away to seek their fortunes in 
Lynn, or some of the cities.” 

“ I ’m sure I ’d live somewhere else, if I had to spend 
all the year in Marblehead,” said Brenda, and then, when 
the others laughed at her, she looked offended until they 
pointed out the bull that she had made. 

“ Don’t you think it ’s a fascinating place ? ” asked 
Julia. 

“No, I honestly don’t. That is, I prefer places where 
the houses are bright and cheerful-looking, freshly painted, 
you know. Why, these houses look as if they hadn’t 
had a coat of paint in a hundred years ! ” 

“ She ’s pining for Queen Anne cottages, all red and 
green and yallery,” said Nora apologetically to Amy. 

“Well, on a gray day, Marblehead does look rather 
dingier than usual,” said Amy. 

“ Oh, I know what Marblehead ’s like in all kinds of 
weather ! ” said Brenda. “ I can’t count the times I ’ve 
been here on my way to the boat. I never thought 
that it was beautiful, and I don’t think I ’ll change my 
mind so very much, even at the end of this pilgrimage. 


150 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


But I ’m willing to get all the improvement 1 can out of 
this trip. That ’s what we ’re here for, are n’t we ? ” and 
she turned inquiringly toward Amy. 

Amy did not know exactly whether or not it was worth 
while to be offended with Brenda. Or rather she could 
not tell whether or not Brenda was in earnest. 

“ It was your mother who suggested our coming in 
this way. Of course I shall be glad to tell you anything 
I can about places. But I don’t wish to make myself 
tiresome.” 

“ Of course you won’t make yourself tiresome. Brenda 
did n’t mean that.” 

“No, I really didn’t, though I won’t pretend that I 
am quite as much interested in history as Nora and Julia. 
They’re regular cormorants.” 

“ What in the world is that ? ” asked Nora, in an aside, 
while Brenda looked rather proud of her success in using 
a particularly uncommon word. 

“ I ’m afraid that you ’ll never tell us anything unless 
we ask questions; you are altogether too modest,” said 
Julia. “ So, as I am the oldest, I will begin. Why is 
that house standing there below us in the middle of the 
street? Were they short of sidewalks?” 

“That’s the old Town House,” replied Amy. “You 
can see the date there over the door, 1727. They still 
hold town meetings there, I believe, though they can’t be 
as exciting as in the days of the Revolution when men 
like Elbridge Gerry, and Jeremiah Lee, and perhaps Mug- 
ford himself used to speak there.” 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


151 


“ I never heard of a single one of those men, did you, 
Nora?” and Brenda lowered her voice a little so that 
Amy might not know the depths of her ignorance. Nora 
shook her head, although whether in assent or contra- 
diction it was not easy to tell. They had now moved 
nearer the Town House, and lingered there to study it 
more closely. 

“Judge Story was horn in that house where the apothe- 
cary’s shop is, — the father of the artist Story,” explained 
Amy. 

“ Oh, yes, the grandfather-in-law of Emma Eames ; now 
don’t say that I didn’t know anything about any one in 
Marblehead,” said Nora, so appealingly that the others 
laughed. 

Near the Story House, Amy paused for a moment. 
“ There, I think that we ’d better go up this street while 
we ’re fresh. There ’s a great deal to see up here,” and 
she led the way with Julia, while the other two followed 
at some little distance. 

“Is she going to draw money?” asked Nora, as Amy 
and Julia entered a large house, the lower story of which 
was a hank. Hastening their steps, they found them both 
admiring the wall paper on the wall above a handsome 
flight of stairs. 

“ It was made in England, and looks almost as if 
painted by hand,” said Amy. “Colonel Lee, who lived 
here at the time of the Revolution, was a great patriot. 
When this house was built, there was said to be no other 
as expensive and fine in all the British Colonies.” 


152 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“Was Washington ever entertained here? ” asked Nora, 
demurely. 

“Yes,” replied Amy. 

“And Lafayette, too?” 

“Why, yes.” 

“ I thought so. I Ve been in historic towns before, 
and Washington and Lafayette have always been enter- 
tained in the handsomest houses.” 

“ Well, Colonel Lee was naturally honored by Wash- 
ington, because he had been so devoted to the American 
cause. You see, ever so many of the Marblehead mer- 
chants were Loyalists. Why, Colonel Lee himself had 
a brother-in-law, Benjamin Marston, — that is his house 
up there at the top of the hill, — who was exiled to 
Nova Scotia because he was on the King’s side. Another 
brother-in-law. King Hooper, as he was called on account 
of his great wealth, had a large banquet-hall in the top 
of his house, and my mother says that she can remember, 
not so very long ago, a coat-of-arms there over the door. 
This part of Washington Street, especially up here on 
the hill, seems to have been the Court End of the town, 
— at least, all the handsomest houses are here,” said Amy. 

“ Is every old house standing that ever was built in Mar- 
blehead ? ” asked Brenda. 

“Well I’m not going to point them all out to you, so 
don’t be worried,” answered Amy, good-naturedly. 

“ Show us one that has some romantic story connected 
with it.” 

“ I ’m afraid that there are not so very many. The 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


153 


houses of very rich people were just about as unromantic 
a hundred and twenty years ago as they are to-day,” re- 
sponded Amy. “But there’s the old Bowden House over 
there on the hill. Michael Bowden was a Loyalist, but he 
was n’t as unpopular as some of them, and so when another 
Loyalist sought refuge in his house from an angry mob, he 
promised to protect him. Well, the crowd rushed into the 
house, and Mrs. Bowden tried to keep them from going 
farther than the sitting-room. 

“ ‘ I can assure you, gentlemen,’ she said, ‘ that the man 
you seek is not under my roof. If you make any greater 
disturbance, you may cause the death of my sick daughter.’ 

“ So the citizens did not go any farther. They believed 
Mrs. Bowden.” 

“ But the man was in the house, was n’t he ? ” 

“Well, it seems that he was on the roof, hiding behind 
one of the big chimneys. So that in one way Mrs. Bowden 
told the truth.” 

“I did n’t know there were so many Loyalists in this 
part of the world,” said Nora, as Julia pointed out a house 
on the opposite side of the Square which Amy said had 
belonged to Benjamin Watson, a prominent Tory. 

“ Oh, well, my mother says that Marblehead was rich 
then, that Boston was the only town that was richer, and 
some of the merchants, fearing that their business would be 
disturbed, were on the side of England.” 

“Where is the very oldest house of all?” asked Julia; 
“ these up here look almost too comfortable and modern, 
even if they are more than one hundred years old.” 


154 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“ Then I must take you down to the old Tucker House, 
built — ” and Amy referred to her little note-book, — 
“ about 1660.” Her mother had advised her to write a 
few dates and facts with which to refresh her memory, as 
she guided her friends around the town. 

“Well, it isn’t much to look at,” said Brenda; “it’s 
shabby, and it is no more distinguished-looking than the 
other old houses around here. The very oldest house 
ought to be different in some way.” 

“ Somebody told me that the very first settler, who came 
here in the winter of 1629, lived in a fish-hogshead which he 
set up in a sheltered cove, near Peach’s Point. Now if that 
house had been preserved, I fancy that it would have suited 
you. It would have been so unlike anything else here.” 

Thus they wandered about, these four girls, each finding 
something that had some special interest for her. Julia 
was very much impressed by the fact that J ames Mugf ord’s 
house was still to be seen (“ the very house in which he and 
his young wife set up housekeeping ” ) ; and when Brenda 
and Nora admitted that they did not know what Mugford 
had done to distinguish himself, she told them the story 
which every patriotic boy and girl should know. She told 
how Mugford, in his little schooner “Franklin,” suc- 
ceeded in the spring of 1776 in capturing the British trans- 
port “ Hope,” loaded with ammunition and military stores 
that were of the greatest value to the Americans. He took 
his prize safely into Boston, and then started for home. 
There was a British fleet lying then in Nantasket Roads, 
and of course they kept watch for Mugford. When part 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


155 


way home, the “Franklin” unfortunately ran aground, 
and this gave the British their opportunity to attack. 
Although Mugford and his men drove them off, and saved 
their vessel, the enemy succeeded in fatally wounding 
Mugford. His body was carried back to Marblehead and 
buried with great honors. 

“ You can see his grave up in the Burying Hill,” said 
Amy ; “ it is marked by a stone, and there ’s a monument 
at the other end of the town.” 

While Amy was talking, Nora appeared to be thinking 
deeply. At length she exclaimed, “ There, I have it ; there ’s 
a Marblehead monument in Boston, at least it ’s to a Mar- 
blehead man. It ’s in the Park in Commonwealth Avenue. 
I remember when I was a little girl, fond of spelling out 
inscriptions, I used to wonder what Marblehead was. It 
did n’t seem to me like a place. I wonder whose the statue 
was on that monument! It ’s a kind of Continental looking 
figure.” 

“ Oh, that is General Glover ; IVe seen that monument 
myself on some of my trips to town.” 

“ General Glover ? ” Nora showed her curiosity very plain- 
ly. “Well, he started as Colonel John Glover, and joined 
Washington at Cambridge. His regiment was made up 
wholly of Marblehead men, all except seven. Washington 
Irving called them the ‘ amphibious regiment of Marble- 
head fishermen.’ They knew more about boats than any of 
the other soldiers, and these Marbleheaders were the men 
who rowed Washington across the Delaware on that 
Christmas night of 1776.” 


156 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“Is General Glover’s house standing, too?” asked 
Nora, in a tone of mock-seriousness. 

“Certainly,” replied Amy. “I ought to have pointed 
it out to you. Well, there may be a chance by-and-by.” 

“ There,” said Brenda, hardly waiting until Amy 
had finished. “ It ’s just come to me. I knew that there 
was something romantic that I had read about Marblehead. 
‘ Agnes Surriage,’ — she ’s much more romantic than any of 
the people you ’ve been talking about,” and she laid her 
hand playfully first on Julia’s arm, and then on Nora’s. 

“ You ’re so down on novels that I don’t suppose that 
either of you has read ‘ Agnes Surriage.’ ” 

“ Oh, we know all about her, don’t worry about that,” 
rejoined Nora. 

“ Yes, I dare say you ’ve read some scrap about her 
in a history ; but that ’s very different from the novel. 
That’s one of the most interesting books I ever read.” 

“ More interesting than ‘ The Countess’ ’ books ? ” asked 
Julia, mischievously. 

“Oh, well, of course not quite,” responded Brenda, 
in the same spirit, while Nora chanted expressively, — 

« t ’'p jg ijjjQ some poet’s pictured trauce 
His idle rhymes recite, — 

This old New England-born romance 
Of Agnes and the knight.’ 

“ I could recite any amount more, but we have n’t 
time now.” 

“ There ’s no doubt that you can recite poetry very well, 
Nora,” said Brenda, “ and I ’m glad that you liked Agnes.” 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 157 

“Oh, I have read the novel, too; I read it after we 
visited the North End last winter, with Miss South.’’ 

“Before we go home to-day, perhaps we can go up 
to the place where the Fountain Inn used to stand. 
It’s some little distance up the hill. There’s a kind 
of interesting looking pump over a well there, and they 
suppose that the inn was named from it.” 

“ From the pump ? ” 

“No, from the well,” replied Amy, without a shade 
of annoyance at Brenda’s interruption. 

“Well, I wish that instead of building his great 
mansion house at Hopkinton, Sir Harry had built it at 
Marblehead. If he had done that, it would probably 
still be standing, as in Marblehead the people apparently 
never pull down a stick or a stone.” 

“You’ll have to be contented with the well, and 
imagine that the little old house across the road is the 
inn where Agnes was scrubbing the steps when Sir 
Harry first saw her.” 

“ I wonder if she ever came back here, after she 
became a titled lady.” 

“ I ’ve never heard about that, but I know that my 
mother read me the story from the town history once, 
and it says there that Agnes was very good to her own 
family, and never neglected the interests of her brothers 
and sisters.” 

“ I must read the novel myself ; the story is certainly 
a very romantic one. Aren’t there some more interest- 
ing Marblehead women or girls to tell us about?” 


158 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“ There are the Floyd Ireson women,’’ said Nora, 

“ ‘ Brief of skirt, with ankles bare, 

Loose of kerchief, and loose of hair. 

With conch-shells blowing, and fish-horns’ twang. 

Over and over the Maenads sang, 

“ Here ’s Find Oirson, fur his horrd horrt, 

Torr’d and futherr’d and corr’d in a corrt 
By the women o’ Morble’ead.” ’ 

“And after all, poor man, they say now that he 
did n’t do what Whittier thought he had done when he 
wrote that poem.” 

“Oh, what was it?” There was considerable eager- 
ness in Brenda’s voice. 

“ Well, they thought that he sailed away from a 
Marblehead vessel that had sprung aleak in Chaleur 
Bay. That was the report that was spread in Marble- 
head, that he had refused to help the sailors who were 
in danger of drowning. So when he reached Marblehead, 
the women tarred and feathered him, and rode him 
around the streets in a cart. That part of the story is 
true enough, and so it is n’t so strange, perhaps, that 
Whittier should have written a poem about it. But it ’s 
a pity, too, for it was afterwards shown that Skipper 
Ireson himself wanted to go to the help of the wreck, 
only his sailors wouldn’t let him. To save themselves 
from blame, they told this story about him. But anyway 
the whole thing was n’t quite as bad as it seems in the 
poem, for the men on the sinking vessel were finally 
rescued by another vessel that passed their way.” 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


159 


“ But it ’s all true about the women of Marblehead ? ” 

“Oh, yes, they used to be a rather queer lot. Their 
husbands were off at sea so much that they had to look 
out for themselves, and this made them very mannish. 
Their short skirts and queer head-dresses came down to 
them, I suppose, from their French ancestors, — the first 
settlers are said to have come from the Island of Jersey, 
and that ’s where they got many of their strange words. 
They say that it ’s almost impossible to understand some 
of the old people now. By the way, Floyd Ireson’s 
house is standing,” said Amy. “I can show it to you 
soon. It is n’t as old as some of the other houses, but 
strangers always want to see it. It was in the very early 
years of this century that Skipper Ireson lived.” 

During this conversation the girls had been walking 
very slowly through the old streets, and while Nora was 
reciting the verses about Agnes Surriage, they had come 
to a complete stop leaning against the fence in front of an 
old garden. Only one or two persons passed them while 
they stood there, and no one seemed surprised at their 
actions. A white -bearded old man hobbled by, leaning 
on a cane, and an old woman passed along, wearing a 
black shawl and a large scoop bonnet, such as one would 
never see in any place but Marblehead. A dog-cart with 
two young people, evidently summer residents, clattered 
through the street; an electric car whirled down Washing- 
ton Street, toward which they were walking, and these 
were chief signs of life in that part of the sleepy old town 
where they found themselves. 


160 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“ The thing that I should most like to see,” said Brenda, 
“ would be the place where we can get a good comfortable 
luncheon. I ’m starved.” 

“You poor thing!” cried Nora, sympathetically, and 
Amy hastened to add, — 

“We ’ll take the next car down toward the Fort. 
We might as well save ourselves any further walking. 
Your mother said that we might go to one of those little 
restaurants. Except on a Saturday or a holiday, there ’s 
never any crowd in the middle of the day.” . 

“ Oh, what fun ! ” cried Nora. “ I was just wondering 
where we ’d find anything to eat. I had an idea that per- 
haps we were to make a raid on some of these fruit stores.” 


XII 


FORT SEW ALL AND ST. MICHAEL’S 

A FEW minutes in the car brought the girls to the end 
of the route, and a walk of a minute or two more took 
them to a region of small unsubstantial-looking buildings, 
with sign-boards indicating that within light refreshments 
were provided. One of them was built out on a rock. 

“Let us go in here,” suggested Julia, “the outlook is 
pleasant ; we might as well make sure of a good view while 
we are eating.” 

“ It ’s no wonder I ’m hungry,” exclaimed Brenda, look- 
ing at her watch. “ Why it ’s after two o’clock ! I had n’t 
any idea that it was so late.” 

So to make up for lost time the friends ordered chowder, 
aud ice cream, and pickles, — to be served with the 
chowder, and not with the ice cream; and Brenda, who 
still complained of being hungry, finished up with a glass 
of milk and some doughnuts. This horrified Julia, who 
thought of the pickles and clams that had preceded this 
addition to the dessert. But if there were not something 
ostrich-like in the digestion of average young girls, the 
amount of suffering in the world would be largely in- 
creased through vagaries of diet in which they are con- 
stantly indulging; and Brenda, because she had never 

11 


162 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


suffered especially from combining conflicting substances at 
the same meal, thought that she was never likely to suffer. 

“Now, to the Fort,” cried Nora, “if you’ve eaten 
enough. I hope that there are some seats there. I ’m 
beginning to feel just a little stiff from climbing up and 
down those steep streets.” 

“Well, you’ve got to climb one more small mountain 
to get to the Fort, and then you can rest as long as you 
wish.” 

“We want time for St. Michael’s Church,” said Julia. 

“ Oh, yes, but everything else, even the Burying Hill, 
we can leave until some other day, if there isn’t time 
to-day for it.” 

Now the girls had all seen Fort Sewall from the water 
side, as its old walls and green slopes make it one of the 
notable objects along the shore of Marblehead Harbor. It 
is built on a point that commands the entrance to the 
harbor, and as long ago as 1742 the General Court saw the 
advantage of fortifying this point, and voted a certain 
sum of money for the purpose. It was first built to pro- 
tect the people of Marblehead against French cruisers. 
But in all our other wars, it has been garrisoned. To-day 
it is dismantled, its ramparts have become a park, and 
seats are placed here and there for those who wish to 
linger on its height to enjoy the view. Almost directly 
across is the Great Neck, with the lighthouse on the Point, 
the handsome cottages on the higher land, with the yacht 
clubs, and still other cottages nearer the water’s edge. 
Then more to the left, and farther out toward sea, Lowell 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


163 


and Baker’s Island, and the distant shores of Beverly, 
Manchester, and Gloucester. One need not he a great 
lover of Nature to appreciate all this ; and even Brenda, 
who usually expressed a strong preference for city views 
over those of seashore or country, drew attention to the 
blueness of the water, and the changing lights on the 
island. For the sun, which had so kindly hidden itself . 
while the girls were walking about, had now come out, 
and shone with such energy that they were glad that they 
had found so pleasant a resting-place. 

Brenda made up for lost time by photographing her 
three friends, and then, taking the same place in the group 
that Julia had had, she let her cousin photograph her. 

“ Come sit down, Brenda, you make me tired, you 
are so restless,” cried Nora, as Brenda moved about 
uneasily over the heights. “Amy is going to tell us 
some more interesting things, aren’t you?” 

It was astonishing how readily Amy’s new friends 
had acquired the habit of addressing her by her first 
name, and how she almost as readily could call them 
by theirs. 

“ Why, if you really want me to,” she said in answer 
to Nora’s question, “ I might think of something, although 
I do not know anything that you might not read in 
some book.” 

“ Oh, that ’s no matter. It will be like meeting an 
old friend, if we come upon anything you have told us 
in print. Is n’t there any old witch-house in Marblehead ? 
There ought to be, for it ’s near enough to Salem.” 


164 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“I don’t know that you’d call it a witch-house, but 
there is ‘the old brig,’ as they’ve named it. It’s up 
opposite the old Burying Hill, one of the oldest houses 
in town.” 

“ There are so many of them,” murmured Nora. 

“ What makes it a witch’s house ? ” 

“Well, I can’t say that it deserves the name. Only 
old Dimond is said to have been the father of Moll 
Pitcher, who was a famous fortune-teller of Lynn. That ’s 
the nearest I can come to a witch. But this old Dimond 
himself was supposed to have some kind of strange power. 
People thought that he could warn them of the future, 
and they used to consult him about all kinds of things. 
On nights when it was dark and stormy, they say that 
he used to walk among the graves and beat the air with 
his arms, reciting strange words to keep disaster from 
his friends. It is also said that once, when a sum of 
money had been stolen from an old couple, he revealed 
the name of the thief, and told where the money could be 
found.” 

“ So he was n’t a bad witch,” said Nora. 

“Wizard,” corrected Brenda. 

“ Oh, what ’s in a name ? ” and Nora waved her hands 
impatiently. 

Just at that moment, a strange unearthly sound — a 
cross between a whistle and a shout — came to their 
ears. Amy gave a start, and looked around anxiously. 

“ It is n’t old Dimond,” said Julia, smiling. 

“ Oh, no, it sounds like — ” and just then the sound 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCIiLEY 


165 


came again a little louder, and looking around, the girls 
saw Fritz at some distance leading a bicycle. 

“1 knew his call,” said Amy, “but I did not expect 
to see him over here.” 

As Fritz drew near the four girls, he looked rather 
sheepish. He did not know Amy’s friends very well, 
and he soon came to a sudden halt. 

“ I ’d better go and speak to him,” said Amy, “ perhaps 
he has a message.” 

After a few moments’ conversation, she returned to 
her place on the bench, with Fritz closely following. 

“ He has a new bicycle,” slie said, her face beaming 
with pleasure. “ His uncle surprised him with it to-day, 
and he rode over here to show it to me.” 

Now Fritz, after acknowledging the greetings of the 
other girls, whom he had met once or twice, accepted 
their congratulations for the new bicycle, and displayed 
its beauties with great earnestness. As he described it, 
its weight, its finish, its gear, it seemed as if no other 
bicycle had ever been built that was quite its equal. 

When he accepted the invitation given him by Julia 
to sit down, he flung himself on the grassy slope, in front 
of a bench against which he stood his wheel, and he kept 
one hand affectionately on a pedal. 

“ Come, do tell us some more about Marblehead, some- 
thing romantic; if there were not more witches here, 
there were probably pirates?” — Nora looked eagerly at 
Amy. 

“ I don’t exactly know,” she began. 


166 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“ Oh, Amy, you do know something about pirates,” 
and the voice of Fritz had a mischievous ring in it. 

“Oh, tell us, that would be something like. Here 
by the sea is just the place for a tale about pirates.” 

“ There ’s very little that I can tell,” said Amy. “ I 
suppose that he is thinking about Oakum Bay. There 
is a story about — ” 

“There, Amy,” cried Fritz, “I can see that you are 
not going to tell them the real thing,” and he drew a paper 
from his pocket which he began slowly to unfold. An 
expression of annoyance crossed Amy’s face, as if she 
suspected him of some mischief. She leaned forward, 
as if she would like to take the paper away from him. 
On second thoughts, she refrained from the attempt. 

Fritz held the paper in front of him with a very firm 
grasp. His left arm was half raised, as if to shield 
himself from Amy, should she try to take the paper 
away from him. Then, in a loud voice, he read the 
following verses. 

’T was a Spanish galleon sailed the seas, — 

Long centuries since have rolled, — 

Laden with silver and gems to please 
Gay dames and gallants bold. 

But villainous pirates seized the ship, 

As homeward she was bound. 

Ah ! she has made her last sea-trip. 

For they ran her soon aground. 

From Oakum Bay into Marblehead, 

One lady they brought there. 

But the Captain, alas ! and the crew are dead, 

And her they will not spare. 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 167 

Loud, loud she shrieked, “ Save me now from harm ! ” 
“Oh, save my life, oh, save ! ” 

Cruel echo mocked at her wild alarm. 

Now she lies in a nameless grave. 

Yet once a year when the night has come. 

That marked her dreadful death. 

You can hear her above the Ocean’s boom. 

Out-pouring her dying breath. 

“ How do you like it ? ” he asked, when he had finished. 
“It’s called ‘The Shrieking Woman of Marblehead.’ ” 

“Very well indeed,” said three of the girls. Amy 
alone was silent, and the expression of annoyance had 
not yet passed from her face. 

“ I like it very much,” added Nora, “ although it is n’t 
exactly a cheerful story. Is it true?” 

“ Oh, Amy says so ; that ’s why she wrote the poem, 
because she had read the story somewhere, and she thought 
it so tragic. She likes tragic things.” 

During this speech Amy had been growing redder and 
redder. For the three girls were looking at her, as if 
to say, “ What a strange girl you are to write poetry ! ” 
or “ To think that you can write it, how very queer ! ” 

Julia was the first to break the silence. “ Did you 
really write that ? How delightful it must be to be able 
to! I really envy you.” 

When Julia said anything, people were apt to believe 
her. Her voice had the ring of sincerity in it, — a quality 
which its possessor cannot overvalue. 

“ Why, thank you,” responded Amy. “ I do not write 
very much — and I never show what I have written to 


168 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


people,” and she looked fiercely in the direction of Fritz. 
But the latter did not care. He was getting his revenge 
for a certain neglect on the part of Amy from which he 
had suffered since she had become intimate with Brenda 
and her friends. 

He drew another paper from his pocket, and Amy 
wondered what he would read next. In a flash she had 
decided that it would not be worth while to try to stop 
him now. The less she interfered with him, the more 
quickly would he probably stop his teasing. He was 
not fond of reading aloud. At least she had seldom been 
able to persuade him to read to cousin Joan. But, there! 
he had begun again, and Amy was forced to listen. 

Oh, tree ! Once proud, though fallen now, 

In sorrow here my head I bow 
To see thee stricken down. 

Well hast thou worn thy grand old age ! 

Long hast withstood the tempest’s rage, 

The cruel winter’s frown. 

No storm, no tempest, laid thee low. 

But man, the ruler, was thy foe. 

And with unsparing hand 
He hurled thee prostrate to the earth. 

Regarding not thy royal birth, 

King of the forest land 1 

“ Oh, Fritz, do stop ! ” cried Amy. 

But Fritz was remorseless. “Well, I’ll skip a little, 
but I must give the closing sentiments.” 

Struck by the smiter death, some day 
Shall all of us, — poor common clay ! 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


169 


Lie low, as thou dost lie. 

And happy he, above whose head 
One fond, regretful tear is shed. 

For whom one soul doth sigh. 

“There’s resignation for you!”-he said, as he finished. 
But the others, even the voluble Brenda, did not know 
just what to say. Now, Fritz, after the manner of boys, — 
and girls, too, for that matter, — having gratified his little 
desire for getting even with Amy, began to feel ashamed 
of himself, and although he had several other poems in his 
pocket, taken, like those he had read, from between the 
leaves of the book on Amy’s desk, he decided to read no 
more. 

When he rose to leave the group, Amy would not re- 
spond to his word of good-bye, though he stood before 
her for a moment, as he raised his hat before finally 
starting off. 

The other girls, feeling that they knew Amy so much 
less thoroughly than Fritz did, were uncertain what to say. 

Amy relieved them of part of their embarrassment by 
suggesting that they turn back towards the town. 

“We may have to wait for the next car, and we want 
to have time to visit St. Michael’s Church.” 

Julia led the way with Amy, and they walked some 
distance ahead of the other two. The poetry which Fritz 
had read had made a great impression on Brenda, not 
so much because it was poetry, as because Amy had 
written it. 

“ She does n’t seem like just the stoe girl to me, does 


170 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


she to you?” she said to Nora, as they made the descent 
from the Fort to the road below. “ I ’m not sure whether 
I like it or not; it seems strange that she should be 
able to write like that. Why, those poems sounded good 
enough to print, did n’t they ? ” 

“ Why, yes, I ’m not sure but they did,” replied Nora : 
“ but then, I don’t suppose that we are judges.” 

“I don’t see why not. We’ve always read a lot of 
poetry, and I ’m sure, Nora, that you know ever so many 
pieces to recite. I ’ve often heard you.” 

“ I suppose that ’s why Amy has such a stand-off way 
with her. A person who writes poetry must feel a little 
different from others.” 

“ Hurry up, girls, I see the car coming, and it may wait 
only a minute before turning round,” cried Amy from 
below, in a voice that was thoroughly practical and 
matter-of-fact, — even if its possessor was also a writer 
of poetry. 

The car waited for them a second or two, and the four 
friends took their places on a front seat. “I think that 
I ’ve been in St. Michael’s Church,” said Brenda. “We 
came over to service once, a year or two ago, but I did n’t 
think particularly about the church. I remember that 
mamma said something about its being old, but I did 
not realize then the importance of knowing so much about 
everything historic,” and she made a low bow to Julia 
and Amy. 

“Well, it really is picturesque,” returned Amy, “and 
altogether worth seeing. 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


171 


‘‘Here we are!” she exclaimed, in a few minutes. 
Jumping and following her the three other pilgrims were 
soon walking down a side street toward St. Michael’s. 

At a house next door Amy obtained the key, and the 
friends in a moment had the building to themselves. 
They found the interior a little different from that of any 
other church they had ever seen ; instead of being long and 
narrow, its cruciform shape was almost that of a square. 
It had a rather strange-looking ceiling, from which was 
suspended a fine chandelier, the gift, Amy told them, of a 
merchant of Bristol, England. 

“ When it was built, in 1714,” said Amy, again refer- 
ring to her notebook, “the frame and all the materials 
were brought from England. Of course inside it has been 
altered and freshened in some ways, but still it gives a good 
idea of what an old eighteenth-century church was like.” 

“It’s a wonder it never burnt down,” said Julia; “ it’s 
so near the centre of the town, and I know that there have 
been many fires in Marblehead.” 

“It was in great danger in the fire of 1877 ; but when 
the roof caught, a young man named Gorman found a 
foothold on the top of a house near by, and in this way 
was able to attack the flames, and the rector, Mr. Ward, 
kept hold of the rope which he had tied around the young 
man’s waist, while he battled with the blaze, and finally 
put it out before it had done much damage.” 

“ I don’t suppose that it was a very popular church dur- 
ing the Revolution,” said Nora; “for so many Episcopa- 
lians were apt to be Loyalists.” 


172 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“Well, Rev. Mr. Weeks, the Rector of St. Michael’s, 
did run away to Nova Scotia, and some of the leading 
members were unpopular Tories. The church itself was 
closed during the war and for some years after. When 
the Declaration of Independence was declared, the towns- 
people rushed in and pulled down the arms of King 
George from over the chancel, and rang the bell until it 
cracked.’’ 

“ How foolish ! To treat a church in that way ! ” said 
Brenda. 

“At any rate, they made themselves understood,” re- 
sponded Julia. The girls now turned from St. Michael’s, 
and while Amy took back the key, they all walked on 
slowly until she overtook them. 

“I wonder where Fritz is,” Brenda ventured to ask, as 
she drew near. 

“ Oh, he is probably half way home now. He can ride 
pretty well, and he ’ll try to see what he or his bicycle 
can do.” 

“ It ’s a wonder that he has never had a bicycle before.” 

“ It ’s a wonder to me that he has one now. His uncle 
is so afraid that something will happen to him while his 
father is away, that he never would consent to his having 
one.” 

“ Perhaps his father has written' about it ; if Fritz is like 
any other boys I know, my brothers, for example,” said 
Nora, “he wouldn’t rest content with his uncle’s refusal. 
It may be that his father himself has sent this to him.” 

“Talking of bicycles,” cried Brenda, who had been 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


173 


walking some steps ahead, “What’s the matter with a 
carriage ? There ’s Thomas, in front of the old Town 
House, gazing about, and holding in the horses, and 
wondering if we have been swallowed up in any of these 
old mansions.” 

“Well, I ’m willing to admit,” said Julia, “ that I’m not 
sorry to see him. We ’ve had a perfectly lovely day. 
But sight-seeing is tiring, and I want to go home and 
digest all the things I ’ve seen. Then some other day I ’d 
like to come back and visit the old Burying Hill, and all 
the old birth-places and landmarks that we have n’t seen. 
I suppose there are plenty of them left.” 

“ Oh, yes, plenty, and there are two or three fine pic- 
tures in Abbott Hall, that brick building on the hill above 
the Lee House. We must go there some time.” 

“But we can’t say that we haven’t done pretty well 
to-day, thanks to you, our guide. I feel almost as if I ’d 
been on a pilgrimage to a foreign place,” said Julia. “ I ’m 
going to work now to read everything that I can lay my 
hands on about Marblehead.” 

“ I ’ll tell you what would be pleasant,” said Nora, “we 
might have a kind of a reading party twice a week on the 
beach, and each one could tell what she had read about 
Marblehead.” 

“We might try it,” said Brenda. Her voice did not 
sound very enthusiastic as she continued, “ I ’m not sure 
that I should care to do serious reading about anything 
like that in the summer. But we might try it next Fri- 
day. You could come, could n’t you, Amy ? ” 


174 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“ Why, yes, I think so, if you don’t meet until eleven 
o’clock.” 

“ Oh, we won’t meet before that ; I can assure you that 
we don’t try to get up ahead of the lark. It ’s always an 
accident when I get down to the beach before that.” 

“ On Friday then,” the girls all cried to Amy, as she 
left the house, and she responded gayly, — 

“ On Friday.” 


XIII 


GYPSIES AND AN ACCIDENT 

A DAY or two after the journey to Marblehead Brenda 
one afternoon started off on her bicycle. 

“ Don’t go very far, Brenda,” said her mother. “ It ’s 
rather warm, and I don’t like to have you start off alone 
so late in the day.” 

“ Oh, Nora ’s coming, too,” and Nora wheeled into sight 
as she spoke, “ and we ’re only going a little beyond the 
cross-roads. We ’ll not be gone an hour.” 

“Very well,” replied Mrs. Barlow, “I don’t want Nora 
to run the risk of getting overheated, or anything of that 
kind while she is here visiting,” 

Now Nora and Brenda, as they started off on their 
bicycles, seemed to be in high spirits. It was easy to read 
this in their faces, and had any one met them before they 
turned into the main road, they might have been heard 
singing a lively duet. Perhaps, however, if any one had 
met them, the girls would have stopped their singing. Yet 
I think that the echo would have reached the ears of even 
an absent-minded fellow-traveller. 

“ Do you think that we really ought to do it ? ” asked 
Nora, when they had gone half a mile. 

“ Why not ? There ’s no real harm in it. It is n’t one 
of the things we ’ve ever been forbidden to do.” 


176 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“ Of course not, because no one would ever tliink of our 
wanting to do such a thing. I noticed that you did not 
divulge your plans to Julia, and you didn’t say a word 
to your mother.” 

“Neither did you.” 

“Well, Brenda Barlow, you are unfair. I could n’t say a 
word, because you made me promise not to. But honestly 
I felt just like talking to Julia about it. She always gives 
such good advice.” 

“ Oh, well, if you feel so particular, you’d better not come 
with me. I do hate such squeamish people.” 

“ Oh, I would n’t turn back on any account. If any- 
thing is going to happen to you, it might as well happen to 
me, too. ‘ United we stand, divided we fall ; ’ so let ’s not 
really quarrel until this expedition is over — unless you 
will give it up now.” 

“ No, I can’t now. I’m devoured with curiosity about 
those people. Their tents are close to the road, so that I 
don’t think that there is the least danger.” 

“ Well, I hope not.” 

“ There ’s one reason why I wish that we were not going. 
The day is so warm. I wish that it were a little cooler 
It’s strange how heated one grows on a bicycle. We’re 
not riding so very fast.” 

The expedition on which the two friends had started was 
one of which Mrs. Barlow would have disapproved very 
strongly. Indeed, had she known that they intended to 
visit a gypsy encampment she would have forbidden their 
going. But Brenda, during the early part of the week, had 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


177 


noticed, when driving, beyond the cross-roads, two small 
tents and two or three vehicles drawn up beside them. 
There were horses tethered near, and some strange-look- 
ing men and women sitting on the grass in front of the 
tents. 

Brenda’s curiosity was stirred by what she had seen, and 
a glimpse of a young girl in a scarlet dress, with bare feet 
and long, dark hair hanging down her back, completed the 
work. She felt that she must know more about the gypsies, 
for the answers which her father gave to her questions only 
increased her curiosity. To think that there were people 
who passed all the year in this roving fashion ! Who had 
no homes of their own ! For, of course, you can hardly call 
a tent and a cart a home. Brenda made up her mind that 
she must know more about these people, and, as she rather 
feared a refusal if she should ask permission, she decided to 
interest Nora in her scheme of visiting. 

The little that Mr. Barlow had been able to tell Brenda 
about the gypsies had only increased her interest. “ They 
come every summer,” he had said, “and, in my opinion, they 
are very good people to keep away from.” 

“But where are they in the winter, papa ; do they live in 
tents ? ” 

“ I ’m sure I hope not, unless they go to some warmer 
climate than ours. ” 

“ I wonder why nobody knows more about gypsies ! I 
don’t suppose it would be so very hard to find out.” 

“ Perhaps not, if any one thought it worth while to try. 
But I rather imagine that the gypsies themselves prefer to 

12 


178 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


be let alone. They can carry on their horse-trading and 
their fortune-telling better if they keep themselves to 
themselves.” 

Fortune-telling ! Brenda reflected for a moment. She re- 
membered that a year or two before, one summer afternoon, 
the cook and the housemaid had seemed much excited by 
the appearance of an old gypsy woman with a basket on 
her arm. They had welcomed her as if expecting her, and 
Brenda had seen her seated in a corner of the laundry when, 
a little later, she followed the gypsy to see what was 
happening. But although on her entrance the girls and 
the gypsy seemed to be merely engaged in bargaining 
about the baskets, Brenda knew that the whispering and 
laughing meant something more. Mary, the cook, after 
the gypsy’s departure, would grant her no more satisfaction 
than to say that they had been having their fortunes told, 
and that in consequence she expected a pot of money soon, 
and a trip to the old country. 

Her interest had not been lessened by the fact that she 
had not heard of Mary ’s receiving any large sum of money. 
It is true, that she had taken a trip to the old country, per- 
mission for which Mrs. Barlow had given rather grudgingly. 
It is also true that at the end of her vacation she had an- 
nounced that she was engaged to a fine lad who was coming 
out to be married in a year or two. But as he had not yet 
appeared, Brenda did not know whether or not Mary had 
still kept her faith in the power of the fortune-teller. 

Of one thing, however, Brenda was certain, and that was 
that if ever she had the chance she would have her fortune 


BEENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


179 


told — and here was the very chance, she thought, as she 
saw the gypsy camp. 

“ I am very glad that you are here, Nora,” she had said to 
her friend, “ for I should n’t exactly care to go alone, and 
Julia would be sure to disapprove, if I should ask her to 
go ; and even Amy probably would n’t like to go on an 
adventure. She always has that kind of a stand-off air, as 
if she wouldn’t for the world do anything out of the 
ordinary.” 

But now that they had really embarked on the adven- 
ture, both Nora and Brenda felt some qualms, and by sing- 
ing, and indulging in more or less badinage, they were 
doing what is generally called, “ Whistling to keep their 
courage up.” 

As they drew near the encampment, they dismounted 
from their wheels, and approached the tents on foot. A 
little yellow dog ran out and barked at them, and a large 
Newfoundland rose from the grass where he had been 
lying, shook himself, and stared at them. The little dog, 
finding that he made no impression on the girls, turned 
from them to chase two or three hens that were standing 
under one of the carts. Hearing the noise, and realizing 
that something unusual was going on, an old woman pushed 
aside the curtains of the tent, and looked at them. Then 
she turned, and evidently spoke to some one inside, for 
almost immediately a young girl stepped out with a half- 
dozen baskets on her arm. She was the same girl whom 
Brenda had noticed when she drove past with her father. 
Her feet were bare, her scarlet calico skirt reached half- 


180 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


way to her ankles, she wore no collar, and the button at 
the neck was hanging by a thread, and her long dark hair, 
was tied so loosely as to look like an unkempt mane. As 
she drew near, she held the baskets toward them. 

“Only a quarter for any of them,” she said, “only a 
quarter.” 

Brenda drew out her little purse, “ I ’ll take one,” she 
said, picking out a small one which she immediately hung 
on her arm. The stout old woman at the opening of the 
tent continued to smile at them. Then she beckoned to 
the girl. 

“ 1 wish we had asked her if we could see the inside of 
the tent, that is what I really want,” said Brenda. 

Just then the old woman came forward. 

“ The young lady has a pretty hand,” she said, pointing 
to Brenda’s right hand, from which she had removed her 
glove. Brenda received the compliment a little awk- 
wardly. She did not know just what to say. 

“ A little silver, ladies,” said the old gypsy, “ and your 
fortunes — ” 

“ There,” said Brenda, “ that ’s what we ’d like, our 
fortunes told.” 

“ This way, then,” said the old woman, smiling with 
satisfaction, and she led them toward the largest of the 
two wagons standing there. Going ahead, she mounted 
the steps, and the girls were on the point of following, 
when they thought of their bicycles. 

“Perfectly safe to leave them right there. Nobody 
touch them,” said the old woman; but Nora felt that it 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


181 


was wise to watch the wheels, and so she signalled to 
Brenda that she would stay with them. 

Once inside the large van, Brenda was so much enter- 
tained by what she saw, that she almost forgot to have her 
fortune told. Although it was only about four or five feet 
wide, it was arranged as a living-room. There was a 
long, broad seat — bunk perhaps it should be called — 
running across the end. Blankets, pillows, and high- 
colored coverlid were arranged on it, showing that it 
was used at times for a bed. Little doors under the 
bunk indicated a closet; “probably for clothes,” thought 
Brenda. 

Around the sides of the wagon was a long seat, and the 
space under it was stuffed with all kinds of odds and ends. 
The old woman raised the blind from one of the windows 
at the side, and motioned Brenda to sit down. In the 
mean time, Nora, left outside, was looking about her to 
take in all the features of the gypsy camp. First of all, 
she saw that the large van which Brenda had entered was 
gayly painted, with gilded letters, which she decided to be 
the initials of the owner, on the sides. There was a 
baggage rack behind on which she supposed they must 
carry their trunks when they travelled. One shabby old 
trunk, and a wooden chest were on the ground beside the 
tent. The tents themselves were rather dingy and grimy- 
looking, and a hole had been cut in one for a stove-pipe, 
from which a column of smoke was issuing. There was 
another wagon near-by and an exceedingly good-looking 
buggy. At some distance, where two horses were tethered 


182 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


by a long rope to a fence, Nora noticed a tall youth lying 
on the grass. 

“It’s your turn now, Nora,” cried Brenda, coming to the 
door of the van, and beckoning to her friend. Nora shook 
her head. She had no desire to have her fortune told. 

“It’s getting late, and we ought to be turning home.” 

“Nonsense!” cried Brenda, coming close to her, “you 
must go in ; the gypsy expects it.” 

“ But I did n’t come out to-day just to please gypsies,” 
responded Nora. “I came to please you, because you 
wanted to have your fortmie told. I ’m not going to 
waste my money in that way, I can assure you.” 

“ Oh, that ’s all right ; I ’ve paid for you. You ’re my 
guest,” said Brenda, pushing Nora in the direction of the 
van. 

“Was it really worth while ?” she asked, as she stood 
half undecided what to do. 

“Well, that’s one reason I want you to go. I’m anxious 
to hear what you think of her. She really told me a fine 
fortune.” 

“ Do you think it can come true ? ” 

“ Oh, I don’t see why not. Some things that she said 
were very interesting. Part of it can’t come true for ten 
years, and in ten years almost anything might happen. 
But do hurry, Nora, you are keeping her waiting.” 

Nora’s stay in the van was shorter than that of Brenda’s, 
and she came out looking very much amused. “ The most 
of my fortune is not to happen for twenty years, and I 
don’t see how in the world I am ever to wait. She said 


BRENDA'S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


183 


one thing, however, that may come true. She said that 
within six months, I was likely to have a handsome pres- 
ent from a tall, sandy-haired man. 

“ As I calculate that will bring me near Christmas, and as 
the description fits papa, I shall hope that I am to have 
the ring that he has promised me. So you see that fortune- 
tellers are not all frauds.” 

“ Hush,” whispered Brenda, “ or she ’ll hear you.” 

The gypsy was now standing close to them. “ I could 
come to the young ladies’ house some time,” she said, “ and 
if they have any dresses they can’t wear any more, I should 
be glad to buy them, — and I could tell more fortunes ; 
there is more to be told, much more,” she added. 

“No, thank you,” said Nora; “I don’t care to know any 
more about the future, and I have n’t any clothes to sell. 
Come, Brenda.” 

But Brenda still lingered. 

“Could we see the inside of the tent? Have you a 
gypsy kettle there ? ” 

“No, no,” said the old woman, “no kettle, a cook- 
stove like other peoples. You can come.” She spoke 
in a rather ungracious tone, and then turning to the 
young girl gave some kind of a command in a strange 
language, — “ gibberish ” Brenda called it, and indeed it 
was little better. But the girl understood, and, hastening 
to the tent, evidently told its occupant that they were com- 
ing. For soon a tall, thin woman stood in the opening, 
raising her hand as if in welcome, and the fortune-teller 
told the two girls to follow her to the tent. 


184 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


A glance inside was enough for the girls. There was 
nothing particularly romantic or entertaining to be seen, 
and there was a decidedly disagreeable odor in the air. For 
on the little cook-stove there was a pan of onions and 
fish frying, and the ventilation of the place was not such 
as to make it, even when nothing was cooking, agreeable 
to linger in. As to the furnishing, there was little un- 
usual. A fur rug, such as was spread at the entrance 
to the tent, would probably not be found in most kitchens ; 
nor a cot-bed piled high with blankets and pillows. But 
the long wooden unpainted dining-table, with an assort- 
ment of heavy crockery, and a few tin plates, was similar 
to dining-tables that Nora has seen in one or two North 
End houses that she had visited. There was a little child 
of two asleep on a cushion near the stove, and Nora 
thought that he must find the room very uncomfortable ; 
but the mother only shook her head when Nora expressed 
herself, adding, “ He likes it hot.” This woman not 
only spoke good English, but she seemed more willing 
than the fortune-teller to tell the girls about the life 
and habits of their tribe. 

She explained that they had come from New Jersey, 
where they usually spent the winter, that they never 
lived in houses when they could help it, and that the 
large van had cost Henry, the head of the tribe, more 
than three hundred dollars. Three women besides herself 
and the fortune-teller were part of this tribe, and there 
were two other children besides the young girl and the 
baby whom the girls had seen. 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


185 


“ The other women are out selling baskets, and the chil- 
dren are with them, I suppose. But the men, oh, they go 
down to Lynn on the train, or anywhere, where they think 
they can buy or sell a horse. That ’s their trade, horse- 
selling.” 

“ Oh,” Nora was now becoming interested, and inclined 
to ask questions. The old woman had seated herself on 
the ground, although there were several chairs in the tent, 
and Brenda leaned against a packing-case, the inside of 
which had been fitted up like a dresser, with some rough 
shelves to hold odds and ends of dishes and food. 

“Come, Nora,” cried Brenda, “I thought that you 
were in a hurry.” 

“ Why, yes, I am,” and Nora left the tent reluctantly, 
for she was just beginning to get the information that 
she wanted about gypsy modes of living. 

“ Are n’t they picturesque ? ” said Brenda, looking back, 
as they mounted their wheels, to the little encampment, 
with the two women and the girl standing in front of 
the kitchen tent, with the large van in the background, and 
the tethered horses and the chickens adding another 
element of life to the scene. 

“We ’re not going to get home any too soon,” said 
Nora; “it seems to me that those clouds mean rain. 
We must go as fast as we can.” 

“Yes, we must,” responded Brenda, putting all the 
speed that she could into her wheel, regardless of the 
fact that they were at a turn of the road, and near 
the top of an incline. 


186 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“ Be careful, be careful,’^ cried Nora, whose speed had 
increased hut little. ‘‘ There ’s a slope ahead ! ” 

But it was too late for Brenda to do anjdhing. To 
apply her brake just then, would have meant to overturn 
herself, probably. The coast ahead seemed clear, and 
as she had a pretty cool head in an emergency, she felt 
that she could get to the bottom safely. But, unluckily, 
at the bottom of the road was a stone wall on which 
she had not reckoned, and she found herself suddenly 
going so fast that she saw that she could not avoid 
it in time to turn into the narrow foot-path, as she 
had intended. Nora gave a scream, for she had now 
jumped off her own wheel, and Brenda, seeing certain 
disaster for herself at the bottom of the hill applied her 
brake. It did not work, and she felt that the only way 
to prevent her being dashed against the stone wall, was 
to jump, and at the rate she was going that might mean 
something pretty serious for her. Suddenly a figure 
seemed to rise from the side of the road, and in some 
mysterious way, the man — for it was a man — stopped 
the bicycle, caught Brenda as she fell from it, all within 
a few feet of the stone wall. 

The descent of the hill, the stopping of the wheel, had 
all taken much less time than has been occupied in telling 
it, but the minutes, or minute, whichever it was, had worn 
greatly on Brenda’s nerves, and she found herself on the 
point of crying. 

“ There would have been a bad smash,” said the man, 
“if you’d gone to the bottom.” 


BRENDA'S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 187 

“ Oh, Brenda ! ” cried Nora, who had now come up to 
her, “ how you frightened me ! I thought surely you ’d 
break your ankle, if nothing worse. How do you 
feel?’’ 

“ Oh, I ’m all right,” said Brenda, shaking out her 
skirts. “If my brake had worked I — ” 

Then she stopped in the middle of her sentence. For 
the first time she had a chance to see the face of the 
man who had prevented the accident. 

“I can’t tell you how much obliged I am,” she con- 
tinued, still looking at him with much curiosity. 

“You ought to take his name and address,” whispered 
Nora, “ so that your father could reward him in some way. 
It’s really like saving your life. You might have had 
a dreadful time if you ’d struck against that stone wall.” 

In the pocket of her skirt Brenda found a little note- 
book, and, detaching a leaf, she wrote her father’s name 
and address on it. 

“ Oh, no. Miss, no reward at all, nothing like it,” the 
man spoke English, although with an accent ; “ but if 
Miss would give me one of those pictures, the one with 
my little hoy in it. He die last week, and we have no 
picture of him.” 

The man looked very sad indeed as he spoke. 

“ There,” said Brenda, “ that ’s where I saw you, on 
the Fourth; you remember,” turning to Nora, “that I 
took some pictures of a man with his boy. I have been 
wondering where I had seen him. Now it all comes back 
to me.” 


188 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“Why, how strange!’’ said Nora, “I remember him, 
too. Of course you ’ll send him the pictures.” 

“ Now I ’ll take your name and address.” 

The man seemed to hesitate. “ It ’s only so that I can 
send the pictures,” explained Brenda. “ I will try to 
send them as soon as they are printed.” 

“ Oh, thank you, thank you,” replied the man. “We 
live on Derby Street in Salem, down near the water. 
My wife and the baby is there all the time; but I go 
peddling.” 

The man was good-looking, and strong-appearing, and 
in some way peddling seemed an incongruous occupation 
for him. Or, as Nora put it, after they had wheeled away 
from him, “Peddling seems lazy work for a strong, decent- 
looking man like that.” 

“He certainly is strong,” responded Brenda. “If it 
hadn’t been for him, I should probably have a broken 
ankle and a broken wheel at this very minute. I must 
tell papa all about him. Perhaps he can get something 
better for him to do.” 

“ Shall you tell him about the fortune-tellers, too ? ” 
asked Nora, mischievously. 

“I cannot see that that is necessary,” said Brenda, 
crossly. 


XIV 


A FALLING OUT 

Amy was much more annoyed with Fritz than the 
girls had realized that day at Marblehead. She had not 
imagined that a friend could be so unfriendly. For she 
knew that Fritz was well aware that her verse-writing 
was one of her cherished secrets. She had hardly ever 
read any of her own poems to her mother, and it was 
only by chance that Fritz had learned that she was in 
the habit of writing verse. It was indeed wholly by 
chance that he had discovered her secret. When they were 
down on the rocks, one shady afternoon, while Fritz was 
busy reading the “Life of Washington,” Amy scribbled 
so eagerly, and wrinkled her eyebrows so fiercely, 
as she nibbled at her pencil, that Fritz could not resist 
asking, — 

“What in the world is it, Amy? You look as if you 
were trying to solve the hardest kind of a riddle.” 

“ Well, it ’s harder than a riddle ; it ’s a rhyme. I ’m 
trying to make two ideas rhyme — that is, two lines, 
and they won’t.” 

Fritz almost let his book fall into the little pool of 
water beside the rock on which he was sitting. 

“Why, Amy, is that what you are writing — rhymes, 
verses ; not poetry is it ? ” 


190 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


Amy could not help laughing at his expression of 
amazement. 

“Well, the person who reads it will have to decide 
whether it is poetry. I shouldn’t like to say myself. 
But I’m trying to tell a story in verse, and some way 
it does n’t come out right.” 

“ Let me hear it,” said Fritz, “ and I ’ll tell you what 
the matter is.” His tone was one of extreme confidence, 
and, of course, having let the cat out of the bag, as she 
had never meant to do, there was nothing now for Amy 
but to give Fritz the chance to hear what she had written. 

The story was a romantic one about a young man who 
had walked in a garden with a girl he admired, for whom 
he had gathered a rose which she accepted warmly. Then 
came the catastrophe, — 

The cloud of war o’er the country broke, 

When the call to arms was given, 

The lover went, to the maid he spoke, 

“ We shall meet, dearest love, in Heaven.” 

“ He was mighty sure he ’d be killed, was n’t he ? ” 
said Fritz. “ But go on,” for Amy began to close her 
blank book. 

So Amy read the stanza in which the young soldier’s 
death was described, and then she came to the climax, 
which, in her secret heart, she considered very fine. 

Ere long she died ; in her hand they found 
A rose all withered and sere, 

They buried it with her in the ground, 

For they said, “ She has held it dear.” 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


191 


But, instead of applauding, Fritz only laughed vocifer- 
ously. 

Amy naturally looked indignant. “ I must say that I 
can’t see anything to laugh at.” 

“ Why, no, it ’s very sad. That ’s one reason I ’m 
laughing ; it just struck me as odd that they should die 
off so ; and how did the rose get into her hand when 
she was dead. You have n’t explained that.” 

“ Oh, you are n’t a bit poetical,” and Amy read the 
last stanza aloud again. 

“ Is n’t the metre just a little lively for such a sad 
subject?” On account of the drill that he had had in 
Latin and Greek, Fritz knew something about metres, 
even though he had n’t the widest appreciation of English 
poetry. Amy seemed disturbed by this suggestion, and, 
going over the lines again, she decided that Fritz was 
partly right, and that some time in the future she would 
cast the poem into some other form. 

“ In spite of your laughing at me, Fritz, I can see it ’s a 
good thing to have some one to criticise me, and after this 
I ’ll show you some of the pieces that I write. But you 
must promise not to speak to another soul about them.” 

“Why, does n’t your mother know that you write ? ” 

“Oh, yes, of course. But she doesn’t care to have me 
spend so much time over poetry. She says that it ’s better 
to read good things now, and write when I ’m older. But 
some way I can’t help writing whenever I have the chance.” 

In the two years that had passed since Fritz had first 
learned of her poetic proclivities, Amy had had no reason 


192 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


to think that he had ever broken his promise, and many a 
pleasant afternoon had they spent together, Amy busy 
with her pencil and writing pad, and Fritz ready to drop 
his book at a suggestion from Amy, to listen to her latest 
effort. It might be hard to say just how valuable these 
criticisms were, and just as hard, perhaps, to say whether 
the verses were worth the time that Amy put on them. Yet 
in certain ways this was her chief recreation, and it was 
undoubtedly a better way of spending the time than in 
mere idle reading, or in games. 

It is only fair to say, too, that as time went on the 
poems written by Amy improved decidedly. Instead of 
sentimental subjects drawn from her own imagination, 
she now looked for subjects in history, or in tradition, 
such as “The Shrieking Woman of Marblehead.” As 
this was one of the most recent, as well as the most 
carefully written of her poems, she need not have been so 
angry with Fritz for reading it. Her mother had approved 
of it, as well as of the other poem which he had read. 
There was this to be thankful for, and Amy appreciated 
it, as she thought of the events of that day at Marble- 
head. 

“ But it was very mean of Fritz, all the same,” thought 
Amy, “ he broke his promise. That is to say, he broke the 
spirit, if not the letter of it, for he knew perfectly well 
that I don’t want any one else to know that I try to write 
poetry. The one thing in the world that I hate is to be 
laughed at, and they always laugh at girls who write 
poetry.” 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


193 


Although Amy may have had in mind the vague, un- 
sympathetic world in general, when she said “they,’’ I 
think that she more particularly meant Brenda, whom she 
knew to be a person unlikely to approve of a scribbling 
girl. Now although Amy prided herself on her indepen- 
dence, and although she would not have gone out of her 
way to gain any one’s favor, she found herself unexpect- 
edly anxious to stand well with Brenda. She was strongly 
drawn to Brenda, perhaps because the latter was so unlike 
any one else she had ever known. Brenda seemed so free 
from care, so bird-like almost, in her way of flitting from 
one enjoyment to another, that, without envying her, Amy 
often wished that she could get herself to take life more as 
Brenda did. 

“ But then how can I ? ” she would say, a little sadly. 
“Brenda can do anything that she wishes at the minute 
she wishes to do it. No one ever interferes with her.” 

Conscience here asserted itself, and Amy continued, 
“ Of course no one ever interferes with me. I know that 
mamma has always tried to let me have everything that 
we can afford. But then that is just it, — what we can 
afford. Sometimes we are able to afford so little. There ’s 
hardly a girl along the shore who has n’t a wheel ; why, 
even the daughters of the mechanics at the Mills have 
them ! Then there ’s cousin J oan, she is a great trial to 
me. I don’t suppose mother realizes it. But I get very 
tired reading to her, and carrying her meals upstairs, 
and — ” when Amy reached this pitch in her reflections, 
she was almost ready to cry or to write a poem. A poem 
13 


194 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


was always consoling to her, because in her search for words 
to rhyme, or to perfect the metre, she usually forgot her 
grievances, even though the particular subject of the poem 
might be something far from cheerful. 

To-day, however, she was not to have an opportunity 
either to repine any longer, or to write a poem. “ Amy,’’ 
said her mother, coming into the room, “ I wush that 
you would come up to the studio to sit for me. I am 
making a small color sketch, and you are just the model 
1 need.” 

So Amy, seated on the little three-cornered stool on 
which her mother placed her, with her hair falling over 
her shoulders, and her sleeves rolled up to the elbow, 
made a docile model, and showed no signs of weariness, 
even when she had been there for some time. 

“ Amy,” said her mother, for neither model nor artist 
was obliged to keep silent. “ Amy, is n’t it two or three 
days since Fritz has been here ? ” 

“ Yes, I think that it is,” responded Amy. 

“He hasn’t been here since the day you went to 
Marblehead.” 

“No, ’m, he hasn’t been. You know we saw him 
at Marblehead, over there by the Fort. He was on his 
new wheel.” 

“Perhaps the new bicycle accounts for his not hav- * 
ing been here. I suppose that he ’s very busy using 
it.” 

“ Oh, it would be all the easier for him to come over ; 
why, he’d be here in a second, almost,” said Amy. 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


195 


Mrs. Redmond looked at Amy rather closely. With- 
out knowing the exact state of the case, she suspected 
that there had been some falling out between the two 
friends. 

“ You must be careful, Amy,” she said gently, “ not 
to let your new friends come too readily between you 
and Fritz. It is natural that you should get more 
pleasure out of the society of girls, and for my own 
part I am very glad that you have these new friends. 
But at the same time Fritz has always depended greatly 
upon you in the summer, and you must not let him feel 
that he is in the way.” 

“ Oh, I am sure that I do not.” 

“Well, I should judge by the way he spoke that day 
when he came for you, and found that you had gone 
to Marblehead — that he felt that you had let the others 
‘ cut him out.’ Is n’t that the expression ? ” and Mrs. 
Redmond smiled at Amy. 

“Well, I think that it’s funny that a boy should feel 
jealous of girls,” said Amy, “ for that is what it amounts 
to.” 

“ If you and Fritz are really friends, as I think you 
are,” continued Mrs. Redmond, “ you will not let a thing 
of this kind develop into a real coldness.” 

“ What thing, mamma ? ” asked Amy ; she had not 
told her mother how Fritz had acted at Fort Sewall, 
and she wondered if she had heard about it in any 
other way. 

“ Oh, I mean the little feeling that you both may have. 


196 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


Fritz thinks that you are forgetful of him, and you seem 
annoyed with him about something.” 

Here Amy had her chance to tell her mother how 
matters stood; but for some reason she still felt un- 
willing to describe the fashion in which Fritz had be- 
trayed her confidence. Perhaps if she had done so, Mrs. 
Pedmond might have laughed at her a little for taking 
a trifling thing so much to heart. Moreover (and other 
girls who have fallen out with their friends will agree that 
they have often found themselves in the same position) 
Amy herself began to feel that she was making too much 
of a trifle. At least she could not honestly say that she 
thought that Fritz had done her much harm. For she 
had seen Nora and Julia and Brenda twice since the 
day at Marblehead, and they had seemed no less cordial 
than before they had heard her verses. So Amy was 
driven to justify herself by saying that it was the prin- 
ciple that she objected to, — that Fritz should have taken 
such a childish way to tease her. When she met Fritz 
on his bicycle not far from her own gate, she merely 
bowed and said “ good afternoon,” and neither asked him 
to come in with her, nor made any pleasant little comment 
about his wheel. Fritz might have forgiven the neglect 
in not asking him to come in. But not to say a word 
about his bicycle ! When she knew that for two years 
it had been the dearest wish of his heart to own one ! 
Really, this was too much. So, after dismounting to 
greet her, hoping for a little bicycle conversation, Fritz 
jumped on his wheel again, and, with a proud little nod, 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


197 


as he touched his cap, he was off at a rapid pace. As 
her mother talked, therefore, Amy knew that the trouble 
with Fritz had already begun, and yet she was not willing 
to lift her hand to change the state of affairs. 

As she painted, Mrs. Redmond studied her daughter’s 
face, and if she didn’t read exactly what was passing in 
her mind, she guessed the state of affairs pretty closely. 

She knew that she had said all that was necessary, and 
that if Amy refused to be guided by her, she must take 
the consequences. She knew, too, that Amy was by no 
means an obstinate girl, and that she was more inclined 
than many of her age to be guided. There was only one 
difficulty, — if Amy once made up her mind definitely on 
a given subject, there was small likelihood of her chang- 
ing. The only possible way to move her, was to approach 
her before she had reached the place where she considered 
that her mind was made up. 

“ There ’s the bell ; run Amy and see what cousin Joan 
wants,” said Mrs. Redmond. She had said all that she 
intended to say at this time, and she was willing to wait 
and let the seed germinate. 

Amy found cousin Joan restless and impatient. The 
little Murphy girl, who came in in the morning to do the 
rougher work in Mrs. Redmond’s little kitchen, and dust 
cousin Joan’s room, had gone home. 

“ She forgot to leave me a glass of water, and she 
did n’t pull down the blind at the east window, so that 
my eyes just ache with all that light, and I do wish I had 
some one to read to me. I declare, Amy, I hope if you 


198 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


live to be old and sick, you won’t know what it is to be 
neglected. Where ’s Fritz now ? I have n’t seen him 
here since the day you went to Marblehead.” 

“ He has n’t been here since then,” replied Amy, as 
she pulled down the blind, straightened the pillows, 
and took a pitcher from the table to replenish with cold 
water. 

“ Well, it was always pleasant to have him running 
in and out,” said cousin J oan. “ I never did think 
much of a house without a boy in it. He read to me 
that day you were at Marblehead, and I enjoyed it very 
much. It is n’t often that I have the chance to hear 
good reading.” 

Amy did not say anything. Yet it was hard for her 
not to make a reply. Cousin Joan spoke as if it was 
a great rarity for her to have any one read to her. But 
Amy felt as if she herself had spent almost weeks of her 
life reading to the old lady, and it was n’t altogether 
agreeable to find that her efforts had not been really 
appreciated. 

Cousin Joan, pleased to have some one to talk to, 
for she had been alone all the morning, continued in 
a rather complaining tone, — 

“ I suppose it ’s all come from your getting so intimate 
with those summer people. But no good will come from 
that. Their life is very different from yours, and you ’ll 
find it out soon enough. You ’ll have nothing left to 
show for it all but a lot of discontent.” 

‘‘I’ve never been perfectly and absolutely contented,” 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


199 


said Amy. I don’t think that mamma wishes me to be. 
She says that people would never make any progress in 
the world if they were perfectly contented.” 

“Well, I don’t believe that you are going to make 
much progress in the world just by being intimate with 
Brenda Barlow, and those other girls. When they go 
back to the city, they’ll forget you, just as sure as fate, 
see if they don’t.” 

Amy wisely made no reply. She knew that it was not 
worth while to argue with cousin Joan. The old lady 
had her own way of looking at things, and Amy had been 
brought up to treat the opinions of her elders with respect, 
even when she could not agree with them perfectly. 

“Do not pretend to agree with a person, if you find 
that your opinion is absolutely unchanged. But do not 
argue with an older person. You may be right, but 
you are even more apt to be wrong, and it is much 
more important to show a proper respect for the opinions 
of older persons.” This was one of Mrs. Redmond’s rules. 

“Can’t 1 read to you for a little while?” she said 
gently. “ I see that your church paper has n’t been 
opened, and I’d be very happy to read that for a little 
while.” 

This offer cost Amy something, for, of all the things 
that she was in the habit of reading to cousin Joan, the 
church paper was the one that wearied her the most. 

As she began to unfold it, she looked out of the window. 
She was sorry a moment afterwards that she had done 
so, for there, on his bicycle, accompanied by another boy. 


200 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


also on a bicycle, was Fritz, riding past the house as 
gayly as if he and Amy hadn’t had a falling out. 

“ Why, he did n’t even look up, at the window,” thought 
Amy, as she turned to her paper. 

“When I was your age, I never sighed like that,” 
said cousin Joan, as Amy sat down beside her. 


XV 


THE HEADING CLASS 

Bkenda’s Fourth of July photographs turned out much 
better than many others that she had taken under equally 
favorable circumstances. On one of the afternoons when 
she sat with the other girls on the rocks, she displayed 
with considerable pride the prints that had been sent 
her from town. “ I consider it the most fortunate thing 
in the world,” she said, “ that I should have these prints to 
give to that delightful, interesting foreigner. I can’t 
tell what he is; but he must be an Italian with those 
big black eyes.” 

“Or a Portuguese,” suggested Nora. 

But Brenda did not take this suggestion kindly. The 
only foreign family with which she had ever had much to 
do was the Rosa family, and as the Rosas were Portuguese, 
she wanted novelty in this new acquaintance, and so 
she preferred to consider him Italian. 

“I’m going to send them to him right away,” she 
said, as the others admired the prints of the pictures 
she had taken at Tucker’s wharf. 

“ How will you send them ? ” asked J ulia. 

“ Why, by mail, I suppose ; unless we go over to Salem 


soon. 


202 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCIULEY 


“ Why, Brenda ! ” cried Nora, after a moment, as she 
looked at the pictures one by one. “Do you realize 
that you have n’t that man’s name, nor his address, even?” 

“ Why, yes, I have, — Derby Street.” 

“But Derby Street may be two miles long. Anyway, 
you cannot send them by mail. You certainly do not 
know his name. He didn’t give it to you after all.” 

Brenda looked crestfallen at this reminder. She had 
been picturing to herself the joy of the man when he should 
open the large envelope which she intended sending with 
the photographs of himself and the little boy. But natu- 
rally she must give up that plan, as she did not know 
where to send them. 

“ Oh, well, we ’ll go over to Salem and call on him.” 

“ Shall you knock at every door in Derby Street, and 
say, ‘I wish to find the man whose photograph I took 
on the Fourth of July’? 

“ Or, you might show the photograph to the Chief of 
Police ; he may be able to identify him.” 

“Oh, Nora, he didn’t look like a man that the police 
would know anything about. He seemed so sad; why, 
there was a tear in his eye when he spoke about his 
little boy.” 

“ Oh, of course I did n’t mean that he was bad, when I 
spoke about the police, only that ’s one of the ways to try to 
find lost people — to go to the police about them.” 

“Perhaps he’ll come over here,” said Brenda; “you 
know that I gave him papa’s address. I think that he ought 
to have some kind of a reward.” 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


203 


Now Brenda had tried, without much success, on her 
return from that bicycle trip, to make her father realize 
that she ha-d been in great danger. For some reason or 
other, he had not seemed to her sufficiently sympathetic, 
although Nora had confirmed her story. 

“ I dare say that you were in more or less danger, and I 
hope that this will be a lesson to you. No one can afford 
to take risks when on a wheel in an unfamiliar locality. 
You say yourself that you had never been down that hill 
before. Then I can only say that you were almost crimi- 
nally careless in starting to ride down it.” 

“ But I did n’t know that it was so steep.” 

“ That is the very thing that I should like to impress on 
you. ‘ Did n’t know ’ is probably responsible for more 
accidents than any other single phrase used by careless 
young persons like yourself. Your mother and I have 
given you considerable liberty in the matter of bicycling, 
because we have always thought that you had sufficient 
common sense to avoid such risks as you have just de- 
scribed. There is n’t likely to be a courageous foreigner 
waiting to rescue you on every road, and so perhaps we 
shall have to forbid your riding about the country unless 
accompanied by an older person.” 

“ Oh, papa ! ” 

Kemember, that if such a rule is made, it will be your 
own fault.” 

Although Mr. Barlow had spoken thus severely to 
Brenda, he was not really unappreciative of what the 
foreigner had done. He told Mrs. Barlow that he should 


204 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


be glad to know more about the man, and that if she 
learned his name, he would look him up and do something 
for him. 

But the fact remained, as Nora had reminded Brenda, 
that the man had not given his name to the girls, and his 
address was so vaguely stated, that there was very little 
chance of their finding him. But on this bright afternoon, 
as the friends sat by the sea, Brenda, who never looked 
wholly on the dark side of things, decided that there was 
every chance that the man would call at her house. “ He 
certainly had my name and address, and he seemed very 
anxious to have one of the photographs.” 

“ They are very good,” said Julia, “and I am surprised 
that your camera could make such a good portrait as that 
of the man and his child. Any one who knew them would 
recognize them in , a minute, and that ’s more than can be 
said of most amateur portraits. Not yours, of course, 
Brenda,” she concluded, for she knew that her cousin was 
a little sensitive on the subject of her work in photography. 

The reading class was progressing, for the girls had really 
followed the chance suggestion made that day at Marble- 
head, and had begun a course of regular reading. They 
met regularly twice a week, and in fact there had been 
hardly a day since their pilgrimage on which they had not 
been able to find an hour or two which could be given to 
reading, either on Brenda’s piazza, or in the shadow of the 
rocks. Their first book had been “ Mosses from an Old 
Manse,” which, strangely enough, not one of them had read 
before. After this had come Theodore Winthrop’s “John 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


205 


Brent,” which contained enough romance to satisfy even 
the exacting Brenda. One afternoon Amy had read some 
of her favorite passages from “ The Faery Queen.” But it 
is no breach of confidence, perhaps, to say that Brenda felt 
just a little bored, and not altogether pleased with the 
musical lines. “ I can’t pretend that I am able to appre- 
ciate all this poetry. It must be fine, or sensible people 
like you would n’t think so. Sometime I ’m going to cul- 
tivate a taste for it, I really am ; so don’t look as if I were 
the most imbecile person in the world. Many people don’t 
like poetry any better than I do,” she concluded. “ But 
‘ Cranford,’ — I ’ve begun ‘ Cranford ’ and I think that it 
is just too funny for anything. I never read anything half 
so funny. I wish that we could have something else like 
that.” 

Now in so short a time the four friends could not have 
read so many books, had they tried to do all their work in 
the hours of their meeting. So they established their read- 
ing club on a rather novel plan. On the recommendation 
of Mrs. Barlow and Mrs. Redmond, they were making out 
a list of entertaining and wholesome books with which it 
was desirable that they should be acquainted. Each girl 
was to report once a week that she had read two of these 
books, and at each of their meetings, each girl in turn was 
to have the privilege of choosing the book from which she 
wished to have a chapter or two read. 

Now, even girls who are not book- worms will read in the 
summer. What else is there to do in the long hours of the 
middle of the day, when it is too hot to wheel or walk, or 


206 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


even to bathe ? With a good book in her hand, a reader 
forgets to grumble about the weather, and two books a 
week is a small allowance for the average bright girl. The 
plan of the reading class pleased Brenda when she found 
that fiction was to have so large a place in the programme ; 
and so, starting without any prejudice against the plan, 
she soon found herself enjoying the books that the others 
were reading. Moreover, one day when she took down 
one of her “ Countess ’’ novels to re-peruse it, she was 
surprised to find it seem rather flat and trivial. At first 
she could not understand this change of view, but, on talk- 
ing it over with Nora, the latter said heartily, “ Why, of 
course, that ’s the very thing that would happen after you 
had begun to read standard books. You may not realize 
that you are doing it, but all the time you are comparing 
the other books you read with those of the great authors. 
There,” as if she had made a discovery, “ I suppose that 
that is why they are called ‘ standard.’ They are used to 
measure other books by.” 

“ Well, I 'm not sure,” said Brenda, “ that I really com- 
pared ‘Mollie’s Eyes’ with ‘John Brent.’ Of course 
they’re not a bit alike, and still, when I was looking 
over ‘ Mollie’s Eyes ’ yesterday, I could not help thinking 
that it was very silly, and not a bit like life, and it 
did not even seem as exciting as it used to.” 

Nora gave Brenda’s hand a gentle squeeze. “I’ve been 
going through something like that myself,” she said ; “ I 
had a novel in my bag that I bought on the news-stand 
coming down here, and do you know I positively could 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 207 

not read the last two chapters, when I tried to yesterday. 
I found that I didn’t care whether they died or got 
married, or, indeed, what happened to them.” 

“ If we don’t take care,” said Brenda, “ we ’ll be models, 
like Julia and Amy, in our reading. I don’t suppose 
that either one of them has ever read a book that she 
oughtn’t to in her life.” 

“We ’re not exactly in the same class with them now,” 
responded Nora; “but we might try to do all we can 
now, to make up for ‘ wasted opportunities,’ as they say 
in sermons.” 

Although the girls might jest a little about their taste 
in reading, it was certainly true that the row of paper 
novels disappeared from the shelves in Brenda’s room. 
They were sent upstairs to a large unused room where 
the magazines and other summer literature found a resting 
place, until Mrs. Barlow had time to sort it all over 
to send to various institutions where reading-matter was 
desired. She smiled when she found the half-dozen 
“ Countess ” books there, and she put them in the pile 
that was intended for kindling. 

“I do not really suppose,” she said to herself, “that 
they would do great harm to any one, if packed in one 
of my hospital boxes, and yet, on the whole, they would 
do so little good, that I shall be glad to tell Brenda that 
when I saw them, I availed myself of the opportunity 
to burn them. She ought never to have owned them; 
but when I found that she had read them, I was perfectly 
willing to wait a little until she herself gave them up. 


208 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


I knew she would see how silly they were. Thanks to 
Julia and Amy, the time has come a little sooner even 
than I hoped, and the burial of ‘ The Countess’ will be 
observed without any tears on Brenda’s part.” 

It would be far from the truth to say that Brenda never 
again cared to read a trashy novel, or that her taste for 
the best reading was completely established by the reading 
club. But it is true that she never again read one of 
these trivial books with great pleasure, and she never 
went out of her way to get one of them. Moreover, she 
had begun to see the value of the better books that are 
real literature, and with her eyes opened in this way, 
it was plain enough that in the future she would be able 
to use her powers of discrimination. She was surprised 
herself that she took such delight in such books as “ The 
Caxtons,” and “•A Chance Acquaintance,” and some of 
the more serious things that came in her way, — an occa- 
sional volume of essays, or a biography. She found her- 
self even ready to comply with a request that the principal 
of her school had made a week or two before the vacation 
began. 

“ I wish that every girl would bring me an account, 
written on four large pages of letter-size, describing the 
best book that she has read this summer. I am not 
going to ask simply for what would be called improving 
books. Fiction will answer as well, only, if you choose 
fiction, I hope that it will be something of real value, by 
an author whose work is literature.” 

When Miss Crawdon had made this request, Brenda 


BEENDA'S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY . 209 

had paid little attention to it. It was not her custom 
to read serious books in the summer, and she objected 
strongly to having suggestions made for summer work. 

What Miss Crawdon said, therefore, had gone in one 
ear, and out the other. But now, when Nora reminded 
her of it, it appeared to her a more attractive suggestion, 
and she agreed with Nora that it would be altogether 
worth while to keep a list of the books she was reading, 
and to select before October the one that seemed best 
worth giving an account of. 

But the reading class, pleasant though it was, by no 
means absorbed the girls during these pleasant July days. 
There were no more bicycle trips, to be sure, as the 
weather was too sultry for that kind of thing. Yet many 
a long drive did the four friends have with Thomas and 
the quiet horses. It had become a fixed habit for Brenda 
to call for Amy to go with them on these excursion 
drives, and she and Nora thought it no discomfort to 
share the back seat of the carryall with their new friend, 
while Julia occupied the front seat with Thomas. The 
North Shore was always revealing new beauties to Julia, 
for it was her first summer there, and she could never 
get over her surprise that so near the sea there should 
be woods that were so beautiful, and roads along which 
the loveliest wild flowers were to be found. When they 
could do no better, they would come home laden with 
ox-eye daisies, with which to fill the vases in the dining- 
room, or with yellow tiger lilies, or with other blossoms 
whose hiding-place was known to Amy. 


210 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


Sometimes they lingered on the way to gratify Julia’s 
desire for a more beautiful view of the sea from some 
point which she had not before visited, and sometimes 
their drive had no definite object. Occasionally they 
stopped to pay a call on some girl whom they knew. 
For the summer residents were all now at their places, 
and Brenda had many friends in the handsome houses 
scattered along the shore. It was all very charming to 
Amy, and all very new, this comfortable, care-free life 
of which she thus had an occasional glimpse. It is true 
that she could not always join in the conversation, because 
she was not thoroughly well-informed in its little person- 
alities, and girls of sixteen have little to say to another 
that is not in the nature of a personality. But Amy kept 
her ears and her eyes open, and she learned many things 
that in the future were likely to be of service to her. 
She learned, for one thing, to be a little frivolous; and 
she learned that while it is not necessary to pretend to 
opinions that do not belong to one, it is no more necessary 
in a general conversation to say all that one thinks. Self- 
restraint becomes a very important quality when five or 
six eager girls begin to discuss excitedly some subject 
in which they are very much interested. 

In fact, it is the girl with the most self-restraint who 
is apt to come out with flying colors in the end. Self- 
restraint was a natural quality which Amy had always 
possessed. Yet, with it, she had also had the habit of 
holding rather firmly to her own opinion, when once it had 
been expressed. She really stood in need of some influence 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 211 

by which the angles of her disposition could be rounded 
off. If any one had told her that she stood greatly in 
need of this kind of discipline, she would probably have 
taken offence at the suggestion. But this was what was 
happening under the intercourse with Brenda and her 
friends. They all expressed themselves strongly on most 
points on which they had any opinion whatever, — “in 
italics,” Amy had said to her mother. But their views 
so often seemed absurd to the more logical Amy, that 
she at once perceived the folly of any one’s going to an 
extreme in expressing herself ; and thus she became aware 
that her own way of looking at things had sometimes 
been a little too narrow. 

When, therefore, the others plunged into a subject on 
which she had no very definite prejudices, she would 
usually take part in the discussion. She liked the sensation 
of finding herself moved, first by this argument, then by 
that. Then, for the very reason that she allowed herself 
to consider the question — whether it related to golf, or 
dress, or even some thing with a literary tinge — in a per- 
fectly unbiassed way, she was often called upon for a final 
judgment in a fashion that was often very flattering. 
“ Now, what do you think, Amy ? ” Brenda, or perhaps Nora 
would say, and Amy would give her opinion in a judicial 
manner that, if it did not settle the matter, at least had 
considerable effect on the speakers. But when the subject 
was one on which she had strong views, in spite of her 
resolution, she sometimes found it hard to keep still, or to 
give her opinion without occasioning offence. The isolated 


212 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


life wliich Amy had led, isolated at least as far as other 
girls were concerned, until she met Brenda, had given her 
great independence. 

Julia did not always accompany the other three on their 
drives and jaunts. She had a certain amount of definite 
work to do, as her preparation in modern languages had 
not been as thorough as the Radcliffe requirements pre- 
scribed. Then there was her music — no matter how hot 
the day, she spent a fixed amount of time practising, and 
it seemed to her that the very fact that she was occupied 
prevented her feeling the heat as her cousin and Nora did. 
But though she might not always go with Nora and Brenda, 
she knew that if she had gone, she would have been wel- 
come. There was none of that feeling of being left out 
which the winter before had given her some uneasy mo- 
ments. 

Though Amy did not miss Fritz as much as she would 
have missed him a year before, had anything happened to 
interrupt their friendship, she still felt sore on the subject. 
In her inmost heart she felt that she ought to try to do 
something to bring about a reconciliation. 

Although we have n’t quarrelled, still I suppose that 
it comes almost to the same thing ; but then I ’m not to 
blame, and so I don’t see why I ought to take the first 
step.” 

On further reflection, Amy decided that she would not 
take the first step. No, she really would not. If Fritz 
enjoyed the society of his new friends so much, why she 
would be contented with her new friends, and yet — 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


213 


Ah ! that was just it. Amy felt the need of the appre- 
ciation that Fritz had always given her when she read a 
new poem to him. She would not venture to read any- 
thing she had written to Brenda or Nora; and as for Julia, 
why she would never dare talk on the subject of her poetry 
with a girl who had just taken examinations for college. 


XVI 


ABSENT-MINDEDNESS 

“ Oh, Nora, just think of it ! I never was so surprised. 
Agnes is going to be married, and probably this autumn 
before we return to town. Oh, I wish that you could stay. 
A wedding is such fun !” and Brenda danced around wav- 
ing a letter which she held in her hand. 

*‘I’m afraid that I don’t understand. Agnes married I 
Why, I thought that she was in Paris,” responded Nora. 

“Well, so she is, or she was. But she ’s coming back. 
Probably she has sailed ; let me see — ‘ if the passage is 
favorable, I may reach Boston by the sixth of August.’ 
Why, that is hardly a week ! I wonder what she ’ll bring 
me. I ’m sure it will be something lovely. She has such 
perfect taste ! ” 

“ But I did n’t know that she was engaged,” said Nora. 

“ Neither did I,” replied Brenda. “ It ’s one of the things 
that they did n’t tell me until the last minute. I believe 
mamma and papa have known for some time. He ’s an artist, 
and they’re going to live in Paris. He’s in New York 
now, and papa is going on to see him and meet Agnes next 
week. He came over by himself; but Agnes is coming 
back with the Waterfords. They ’ve been abroad for a 
year.” 


BKENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


215 


Although Brenda’s rendering of the news was a trifle 
incoherent, Nora and Julia soon had a more connected ac- 
count of Agnes’s prospects from Mrs. Barlow. The en- 
gagement was not exactly a surprise to Mr. and Mrs. 
Barlow, as they had had much correspondence regarding it 
with their daughter and Ralph Weston, her fianc4. They 
had heard such good reports of him from their old friends, 
the Waterfords, in whose care Agnes had been during her 
year in Paris, that, without seeing the young man, on the 
strength of his letters, they had given their consent. Yet 
to Brenda the engagement was news, and perhaps if she 
had known how many letters had passed between Rockley 
and Paris on the subject of this engagement, she might 
have felt a little hurt that she had been left out of the 
family consultations. 

But now in all the plans for the wedding, Brenda was 
allowed to have something to say, and perhaps in the 
excitement of making her plans, she forgot that by her 
marriage her sister was to be removed from her even 
farther than she had been during the past year. 

“ For when she goes back to Europe, it is to be for three 
or four years,” she said to Nora, “ and I shall really be 
Miss Barlow. Yet it’s strange, isn’t it, that although I 
used to think that would be the most delightful thing in 
the world, I fe6l quite blue at the thought of losing 
Agnes.” 

“Perhaps you ’ll go to Paris to visit her.” 

“ Oh, perhaps, but still it will seem very melancholy to 
have her going off to leave us. I did n’t feel the same 


216 


BKENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCIULEY 


when Caroline was married, because I was so very little 
then, but now — ” 

“ Brenda, Brenda, I have something to show you ; ask 
Nora to come, too.” 

“ Yes, mamma,” and the two girls ran upstairs to see 
a photograph, which had just arrived, of Mr. Weston. 

“ Oh, he is handsome, is n’t he ! Agnes did n’t exag- 
gerate,” and Brenda handed the picture to Nora for a 
closer examination. 

“ I have decided to go to New York myself, Brenda,” 
said Mrs. Barlow, when the girls had expressed themselves 
fully on the subject of the photograph. “Your father 
thinks that it will not be too hot for me, and Agnes has 
been away so long that I feel that I cannot see her soon 
enough.” 

Now while this little ripple of excitement was passing 
over the Barlow family, Amy felt herself neglected by 
her friends. The reading club had failed to meet one 
day because Mrs. Barlow and the girls had been invited 
to Magnolia; and on the day of the departure of her 
parents for New York, Brenda had gone up to town, 
ostensibly to see them off. But, as Nora and Julia ac- 
companied her, they managed to make the occasion a 
pleasure trip, by having luncheon at the Mayflower, and 
going down town afterwards to assist Mrs. Barlow in 
her shopping. 

As Mr. and Mrs. Barlow were to take the six o’clock 
train, the girls did not actually see them off, but, instead, 
were sent back to Rockley at flve o’clock, rather tired, 


BEENDA’S SUMMER AT HOCKLEY 


217 


rather dusty, but fairly satisfied with the boxes of bonbons 
and little packages that they carried back as trophies 
of their day in town. 

“ Did you notice,” asked Brenda, “ those tired, half-sick, 
dirty-looking children around the station? — it made me 
awfully uncomfortable to see them.” 

“Oh, yes,” responded Nora; “and there were a lot 
on that side street that we passed through. There was 
a little boy there who made me think of the Rosas. He 
looked so like John.” 

“ I ’m glad it was n’t J ohn ; fancy how much better 
off he is in Shiloh. Except for your Bazaar, Brenda, he 
might be selling papers this evening in Hanover Street.” 

“ Oh, it was n’t my Bazaar,” returned Brenda ; “ just 
think how many people had a hand in it.” 

“Well, I wish that we could have moved a dozen of 
those families out of the city. It almost made me cry 
to-day to see those two little fellows on the corner, just 
as we turned toward the station, squabbling over that 
small bunch of flowers that that lady in front of us gave 
them.” 

“ Oh, I ’ve often had children beg me for the flowers 
that I ’ve worn at my belt. ‘ Give me a flower, lady,’ they 
will cry, and, of course, I always give them what I have.” 

“ It would be a good idea, would n’t it, to send flowers 
to the city regularly, so that some of these children could 
have them ? ” 

“ Why, Brenda Barlow, do you mean that you have 
never heard of the flower mission I Why, dozens of baskets 


218 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


of flowers are sent up to town every day through the 
summer, from all the country places around. Is it pos- 
sible that you have never sent any up from Rockley ? ” 

“ I ’m afraid that I never have,” responded Brenda. 
“ But it ’s a perfectly splendid idea, and I ’ll begin right 
away. We always have plenty of flowers to spare in our 
garden.” 

“You can send wild flowers, if you haven’t anything 
else. Even daisies, arranged in large bunches, are very 
highly appreciated. I ’ve heard my father speak of seeing 
them in the hospitals, and he says that the patients are 
very grateful for flowers.” 

“But how could I get them to the city, and what 
would become of them after they get there?” asked 
Brenda, after a moment’s thought. 

“ Why, Brenda,” interposed Julia, “ I should be glad 
to pay any charges. There ’d be freight, or express, or 
something of that kind. But I wonder whom we ’d send 
them to.” 

“ I could find out from my father ; I think that there 
is a regular place for the flower mission. I believe that 
that is what they call it. At any rate, Edith could tell 
you. She has always been in the habit of sending flowers 
to town. Had n’t you ever heard about it ? ” 

“ Well, if I ever did, I ’ve forgotten. You see, until 
this last winter, I never had much to do with — with — ” 

“Philanthropy,” and Julia added to the word with 
which she had helped her cousin express her meaning. 
“ That was only because you were so young, Brenda. 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 219 

People have to come gradually to take an interest in such 
things.” 

“ It ’s very good in you, Julia, to be willing to pay the 
expense of getting the flowers to town.” 

“Oh, no, it isn’t. You know that I have money to 
spare, and I love to spend it in such ways as this. Before 
you spoke, I was thinking about those children and the 
flowers, and it made me feel quite melancholy that we 
were going back to the seashore where it is so green 
and beautiful, and so cool compared with the city. An- 
other summer, perhaps we can plan to do more for the 
poor little things who have so little to enjoy.” 

The train had now gone far beyond the bridges near 
the mouth of the Charles and the Mystic, past Charles- 
town, where the grim walls of the State-prison and the 
gray spire of Bunker Hill Monument were seen fairly 
near at hand. They had passed through the outskirts 
of one or two less interesting suburbs, and now they were 
skirting the broad Lynn marshes, bounded far to the west 
by woods and distant hills, and again, looking toward 
the east, they had glimpses of the cool, blue sea. Yet 
Julia, delightful though she found the scenery through 
which the swift express passed, still had a feeling of 
dissatisfaction with herself. Why should it be her lot 
to have in prospect the delights of a summer by the 
sea, when all those poor, pinched little children must 
spend the long, hot weeks in the worst streets of a crowded 
city. 

“ Julia,” cried Nora, “you look as if you were dreaming. 


220 BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 

Did you notice, Brenda, the strange expression in her 
eyes ? ” 

“ I believe that I was half in a dream,” said J ulia, 
“ but I am wide enough awake now.” During the rest 
of the journey, the three girls laughed and chatted as 
if they had had nothing more serious than shopping on 
their minds. 

Now it happened that on this very day when Brenda 
and the others went to the city, Amy, feeling a little 
lonely, decided to go out rowing. It was in the afternoon 
when she started, for she wisely waited until the sun 
had moderated. 

She had to walk nearly a mile to reach the little cove 
near which lived an old fisherman from whom she was 
in the habit of hiring a boat. He charged her so little 
for it, that Amy occasionally could afford this luxury. 
The boat was cheap because it was shabby, old-fashioned 
in design, and never in demand. Amy, indeed, and Fritz 
were the only persons who ever hired it, and the old man 
would have been willing to let Amy have it for nothing. 
“ She has such a pleasant way with her,” he said to his 
wife, “ that I ’d be almost willing to let her have it for 
nothing, and she ’s as careful with it as if she was my own 
daughter, I ’m sure of that.” Now although the old boat 
was shabby, it was safe and strong. Mrs. Redmond had 
made sure of its character before giving Amy permission 
to go out in it alone. Mrs. Redmond herself had given 
Amy her first lessons in rowing, and she knew that in 
the neighborhood of the cove there was little chance of 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


221 


any mishap to her daughter ; for the young girl was the 
fortunate possessor of strong arms and a cool head. Fritz 
was not quite as fond of the water as Amy, and during 
the early part of the present summer she had seldom 
gone out in the boat. 

But on this particular day, she knew that the exercise 
would do her good, and indeed when she felt herself gliding 
over the water, her light-heartedness returned to her, and 
she bent to the oars, and pulled toward a distant point 
where she meant to land for a little while. When the 
point was reached, Amy managed to pull her boat to just 
the right spot on the little beach where, by measuring the 
distance carefully with her eye, she could step ashore to 
a rock. There was an iron staple in the rock, which 
had evidently been used for mooring purposes for a long 
time ; Amy fastened her rope to the staple, saw that the 
boat was in water enough to float it, and then, stepping 
from this rock to another nearer the land, and then to 
another, clambered up the side of the cliflt which made the 
extremity of the point. There she sat down, in a sheltered 
nook which she and Fritz had discovered long before, and 
began to read. Her book was absorbing, — indeed did any 
boy or girl of fifteen fail to And “ Off the Skelligs ’’ absorb- 
ing ? — and she sat there for more than an hour, — no, for 
more than two hours, regardless of time. At length she 
judged by the number of pages that she had covered, that 
she had been there longer than she had intended to be. 
But what was her surprise, in looking down toward the 
beach, to find that she had made an absurd mistake. The 


222 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


tide, instead of coming in, had been steadily ebbing during 
the two hours. She had been very careless, and it seemed 
as if she might have to pay rather dearly for her mistake. 

For there was the boat left high and dry upon the beach, 
and she saw that it was going to be very hard for her to 
push it off. Nevertheless, as she must make the attempt, 
she hurried down to it. Had the tide been high, as she 
had calculated, she would merely have untied the rope, 
leaning over from the end of the boat, pushed against the 
rock with her oar, and, presto, she would have glided off 
into deep water. But now ! 

Poor Amy looked about helplessly; first she must get 
her boat down to the water. , It did not seem as if this 
could be the same boat that she had made skim along the 
waves a few hours before. Now it was clumsy, unyielding 
and — yes, Amy actually called it obstinate, as she pushed 
and pushed, and only succeeded in pressing the bow a little 
more deeply into the sands. It was hopeless. She found 
it absolutely impossible to get it down to the water, and to 
wait until the tide returned under the boat, was altogether 
out of the question. It was almost equally out of the 
question for her to think of walking home. She was four 
or five miles away by the road, and she did not dare leave 
the boat. It was about a mile, too, to the nearest house, 
which stood back some distance from the shore. Of course 
she might go there, and perhaps find a man who could help 
her. But this would be putting some strange person 
to a great deal of trouble, and Amy knew that she was too 
timid to ask the favor. Besides, she did not care to leave 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


223 


the boat for the time that would be required to go to the 
house. So she leaned disconsolately against the rock, 
blaming herself for her carelessness and almost ready to 
cry, — she, the strong-minded Amy, — as she saw no way 
out of the difficulty. 

Presently she heard a loud “ halloo,” and looking up in 
the direction whence the cry came, at the other end of the 
beach, she saw a boy and a bicycle. The boy was not rid- 
ing, but as he pushed his bicycle before him over the soft 
sand, Amy felt her heart throb quickly, — yes, it certainly 
was Fritz, and she gave back an answering call. It made no 
difference to her that Fritz was accompanied by the other 
boy, the one whom she had so often seen riding with him 
lately. 

“ Two will be better than one to overcome this monster,” 
she said, as she gazed at the great bulk of the clumsy boat. 

“ Hello, Amy,” cried Fritz, “ trying to row on dry 
land? You might as well give it up. You canT do it.” 

“ Oh, Fritz,” cried Amy, “ is n’t this a ridiculous thing ? 
It was one of my fits of absent-mindedness ; I have n’t had 
one before for a long time. But I forgot that the tide was 
going out. I might have known, because the water was n’t 
very deep when I pushed up here. Do you suppose we 
could get it off together ? ” 

“ I don’t see why not,” said Fritz ; “ there are three of us.” 

Amy looked toward the other boy, who had been ap- 
proaching very slowly. He was not yet within hearing 
distance. Perhaps he had heard of the falling-out between 
Amy and Fritz, and politely kept at a fair distance to give 


224 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


them a chance to make up, or at least to say all that they 
had to say without a third person present to criticise. 

But although, as you may have observed, Amy and 
Fritz for some time had been cherishing a certain amount 
of ill-feeling against each other, when they met they wasted 
no time in fault-finding or even in apologies. Fritz saw 
that Amy was in trouble, and he meant to help her. Amy 
as soon as she heard Fritz’s voice, knew that he was still 
her friend. There was no need of words to tell this. In- 
deed, when two friends have fallen out, whether they are 
boys or girls, if they are really friends, they ought to be 
able to make up without any great amount of explanation 
or apologizing. Of course if one has really done the other 
an injury, proper amends should be made. But misunder- 
standings between friends are so often the result of a little 
false pride, of the fact that one has expected the other to 
say or do something that has been left unsaid or undone. 
When, therefore, the time for reconciliation comes, and 
it always will come with those who have been really 
friends, “Least said, soonest mended” is a very good 
motto. 

“ Come here, Ben,” called Fritz, and the other boy, laying 
his wheel flat on the sand, ran towards him. 

“Come, lend a hand with this boat. It’s got to be 
pushed off into the water, and it’s going to be hard to 
start it.” At last, however, by prodding and pushing, 
a start was made, and then a further push sent the boat 
a little nearer to the water. Amy herself had to help; 
and although the three put their whole strength into it, 





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BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


225 


they had all they could do to get the boat to the water’s 
edge. 

“ If you could ride my wheel,” said Fritz, “ I ’d row 
home; but of coui’se you could n’t do that.” 

“ Oh, I won’t have any trouble getting home, when 
once I ’m out in deep water,” said Amy. 

“ Well, if you are in one of those absent-minded fits, 
you might row in exactly the opposite direction from the 
one you ought to go in, and that would be decidedly 
awkward for you to find yourself bound for Nahant or 
some other place in the direction of the city.” 

“ Oh, no,” rejoined Amy, without losing her temper, 
“ I ’m not so foolish as that, I can assure you. I ’ve come 
to my senses, and if you can only push me off, I ’ll get 
safely into port.” 

“ Well then, take your place,” said Fritz, “ and we ’ll 
do the best we can.” But the weight of Amy, added to 
that of the boat, made the task very difficult. 

Amy leaned from the stern, and, using her oar as a lever, 
tried to push off. But it was of no use. Although there 
were a few inches of water at the bow, there seemed to be 
no way of getting the boat into water that would float her. 

Turning to the other boy, Fritz said a word or two 
that Amy did not hear. But the result of what he said 
she saw very soon. 

“ Oh, you must n’t — you really must n’t ! ” she cried. 
But the boys paid no heed to her. 

“There she’s moving,” said Fritz; “sit down, Amy, 
you can’t stand up in a moving boat.” 

16 


226 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


Amy obeyed meekly; she realized that the boat was 
moving, and she picked up the other oar, ready to row 
when she should feel that there was water under the boat. 

“There, don’t come any further,” she cried. “You’ll 
get your feet wet.” 

“ Oh, no, I won’t,” replied Fritz, “ they are wet already ; ” 
and Amy saw that the boys were standing in water that 
came above their ankles. 

“ The worst is yet to come ; push on, Ben ; ” and still 
deeper the boys waded into the water, while Amy ex- 
claimed, a little uneasily, “ Oh, what would your uncle 
say, to see your feet so wet ! ” 

“ Methinks he may never have the chance to say any- 
thing about it,” rejoined Fritz. 

“ There, you ’re off ! ” and, giving the boat a final push, 
he and Ben stood back, while Amy, in gratitude, waved 
one of her oars at them. 

“ Oh, by the way,” called Fritz, as she bent herself in 
the attitude of an oarswoman, “ Ben says that he has n’t 
been introduced to you.” 

Ben looked somewhat embarrassed, as Fritz, at the top 
of his voice, performed the ceremony of introduction. 

“ Miss Redmond, Mr. Ben Creighton.” 

“ Good-bye, Fritz, good-bye, Mr. Creighton; many thanks, 
and don’t catch cold.” 

“And remember where you’re bound,” retorted Fritz, 
teasingly. But Amy took no offence. It seemed to her 
just then as if she and Fritz would never again fall out. 


XVII 


A VISIT TO MISS SOUTH 

August, that gay seashore month, promised to give 
the Barlow family even more than the usual gayeties 
of the season. The arrival of Agnes, the visit of Mr. 
Weston, the preparations for the wedding, added to the 
other happenings of the month, kept Brenda in a whirl 
of excitement. Nora went up to the mountains the day 
before the arrival of Agnes. “ I should like to stay to 
welcome the bride that is to be, for Agnes and I are 
old friends,” she said, as she and Brenda and Julia paced 
up and down the station platform waiting for the train. 

“ She ’ll be disappointed not to see you ; but you must 
promise to return for the wedding — the very first day 
of September.” 

“We’ll see,” replied Nora. “If mamma comes down, 
if there ’s room for me — ” 

“ Oh, if you can come only for the day, you must be 
here. But I want you to keep it in mind. Mamma will 
arrange it. I am sure that she has some plans now, 
although I forgot to ask her before she went New York.” 

“ Well, you ’ll know the day after to-morrow just what 
her plans are. There, that ’s the train, is n’t it ? Well, 
good-bye, Julia, good-bye, Brenda. I ’ve had a perfectly 
lovely time. Oh, Brenda, don’t forget to let me know 


228 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


if you find your Italian. The gypsy’s prophecy is begin- 
ning to come true. Well, good-bye again.” 

“ Now, don’t forget to write to me as soon as you arrive.” 

“ Oh, no, I won’t forget ; good-bye ; ” and with a pulf 
and a shriek the train was oft, and Brenda and Julia 
turned away from the station. 

“What was the gypsy’s prophecy?” asked Julia, as 
the two cousins walked homeward. 

For a moment Brenda hesitated. She had never told 
any one about her visit to the encampment, and on the 
whole she was disinclined to speak of it. She knew that 
Nora, too, had kept the secret until this last minute. 
Why, then, had she been so foolish as to speak of it 
now? 

“I can’t explain very well,” she said to Julia, after a 
few minutes’ hesitation. “Nora and I had our fortunes 
told the other day by a gypsy, just by having our hands 
read, you know, and she said some things that seemed 
very interesting, — that is, they would be, if they should 
come true. She did say that she could see a wedding 
in the family, and that it would come off very soon. But 
the funny thing is, that I never thought of Agnes. I 
wondered whose wedding it could be. How do you 
suppose she knew?” 

Julia smiled at the eagerness in her cousin’s tone. “ I 
imagine that a wedding is part of the regulation prophecy 
of every fortune-teller. It would be strange if they 
did n’t hit the mark once in a while. But it would n’t do 
generally to pin one’s faith to what a fortune-teller says. 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


229 


How did you happen to consult one, Brenda ? Did Aunt 
Anna know?” 

“ Oh, Julia,” cried Brenda, in the old impatient tone, “I 
don’t have to ask permission for everything I do, as if I 
were a baby.” 

“ I did n’t mean that,” replied Julia, quickly, “ I was only 
thinking that no fortune-tellers had come my way this 
summer. But of course there ’s no great harm in consult- 
ing them, if you don’t put too much faith in them.” 

“ Well, at any rate, here ’s a wedding going to happen a 
little more than a month, after the gypsy foretold it,” re- 
joined Brenda, triumphantly. 

Julia said no more, and the conversation turned to other 
things. But Brenda felt slightly uncomfortable. She 
hoped that no stray remark of J ulia’s would set her mother 
to inquiring about the gypsy, for she felt pretty sui*e that 
Mrs. Barlow would disapprove of the whole affair. 

To change the subject,” she exclaimed, after a moment 
of silence, “ we ’d better go over to Marblehead Neck to- 
morrow to see Miss South. It is the only day we shall 
have before Agnes arrives, and I know you want to see 
her.” 

“ Perhaps 5’’OU don’t care about going yourself, Brenda.” 

Miss South was one of the teachers at Miss Crawdon’s 
school, and Brenda had never seen as much of her as Julia 
had; or, as the other girls put it, “Julia was terribly de- 
voted to Miss South.” Brenda, on the other hand, was n’t 
inclined to be devoted to any one. 

“ Oh, I ’d like very well to see Miss South,” said Brenda, 


230 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“ and I ’m curious to see Madame Du Launay. I Ve never 
really seen her close to, except, of course, that day at the 
Bazaar, and I ’d like to meet her face to face.” 

“We can’t be sure of seeing her, even if we go to call 
on Miss South ; so you must n’t be disappointed.” 

“ Oh, no, I shall be glad to see Miss South herself. I 
really do like her, Julia, even though I may not have 
seemed to appreciate her last winter. She was a perfect 
brick in the way she helped us with the Rosas, and I sup* 
pose that she ’ll have more or less to tell us about them 
now.” 

So the next day, Julia and Brenda went by train to 
Marblehead Neck ; that is, they changed cars for Dever- 
eux, and then went out in the barge to the Neck, over the 
causeway and up the hill, a pleasant drive with fine views 
of the ocean. 

Madame Du Launay had expressed a strong desire to 
spend August near the sea, and Miss South had been able 
to find a house out near the light-house on the Point where 
she and her grandmother were to be the only boarders. Or, 
perhaps, I ought to have said, her grandmother, herself, 
Fidessa, the Italian greyhound, and Jane, the maid. In 
the order of importance, I am not certain but that Fidessa 
should stand next to Madame Du Launay herself. Miss 
South, whom Julia had learned to value so highly, had been 
the centre of a certain amount of romance the preceding 
spring. At the time when Julia and Brenda and their 
friends had carried out their plan for a bazaar at Edith’s, 
the proceeds of which were to benefit the Rosas, a dramatic 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


231 


thing had happened. On the afternoon of the Bazaar, 
Madame Du Launay, a wealthy and eccentric old lady who 
had taken a fancy to Julia, had visited it, and had bought 
liberally of the pretty things displayed there. Suddenly, 
in the midst of her purchasing, she fainted away. Later it 
was learned that Miss South had been the innocent cause 
of this fainting spell. For when the old lady’s eyes fell on 
her, she was overcome by Miss South’s resemblance to her 
own dead daughter. To make a long story short, Miss 
South proved to he old Madame DuLaunay’s granddaugh- 
ter, of whose presence in Boston she was wholly unaware, 
until she saw her at the Bazaar. 

Miss South, of course, had known for some time that the 
eccentric Madame Du Launay was her grandmother, but she 
had hesitated to intrude upon her, because the old lady had 
acted so unkindly toward her father and mother. But the 
affair at the Bazaar had brought about a complete reconcil- 
iation between grandmother and grandchild, and Miss South 
had promised Madame Du Launay that while she lived she 
would make her home with her. 

When the barge drew up in front of the cottage. Miss 
South and Fidessa ran down to the road to meet the girls. 
Fidessa, indeed, jumped and circled about in the frantic 
fashion in which she always displayed her joy. 

“ It ’s all for you, Julia,” cried Brenda ; “ Fidessa never 
cared much for me. No, keep your paws off me, you little 
wretch,” she concluded, as the graceful dog, without much 
discrimination, threw herself first upon one girl then on the 
other, to the probable destruction of their foulard gowns. 


232 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“ Down, down, Fidessa,” and, in obedience to Miss South, 
the greyhound crouched at her feet for a second, then, with 
a run and a leap, she reached the piazza, where she stood 
panting with excitement, as the}^ walked up the steps. 

“ Much ado about nothing,” said Julia, patting Fidessa on 
the head, and this delicate attention so overcame the little 
creature that she jumped into Julia’s arms, where she 
cuddled very contentedly with her head on the young girl’s 
shoulder. 

“ Now come out on the side piazza, where we can have a 
good view of the harbor. Is n’t it lovely ? ” and Miss South 
arranged some wicker chairs so that they could look over 
toward the town. Then she pulled forward a round wicker 
table, and, excusing herself, went into the house for a mo- 
ment. When she reappeared, she was followed by Jane, 
who carried a tray with glasses, plates, and a biscuit jar. 

“The lemonade will be here in a minute,” said Miss 
South, “ and in the mean time we can enjoy the aesthetic 
pleasure of the view. My grandmother is lying down, but 
she hopes to see you before you go.” 

“ Does she like it here ? ” asked Julia, with interest. 

“Well, of course she has hardly been here long enough 
to tell, but she feels sure that she will.” 

As Julia glanced about her, she could not help contrast- 
ing the very simple surroundings with those to which 
Madame DuLaunay had been accustomed. Her Boston 
house was large and imposing, and filled with all kinds of 
beautiful objects. But the curtains were usually drawn, 
and the house was so far back from the street that it had 


BEENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 233 

little view, and it seemed gloomy, shut in from the ordinary 
world outside. 

Miss South, perhaps, read Julia’s thoughts. 

“Come inside for a moment,” she said, “and let me 
show you our sitting-room.” The little hall into which 
they stepped from the piazza was covered with plain 
matting. But inside the sitting-room, what a change from 
the simple surroundings outside ! A large cashmere rug 
covered the floor almost completely. A tall folding screen 
with painted sides, across one corner, softened the severity 
of the angles. A Persian scarf draped the mantelpiece, 
and near a window was a small table with a handsome 
afternoon-tea-set of silver and china. The round centre 
table was laden with books and magazines, and two or 
three easy-chairs and footstools added to the comfort of 
the room. Several of the pieces of furniture, and some 
of the pictures on the wall were familiar to Julia. She 
had often seen them at Madame Du Launay s house in town. 

“ That is it,” she said. “ You are trying to make your 
grandmother feel perfectly at home by having all her 
own things about her. What a fine idea!” 

“ It is just the same- in her bedroom,” said Miss South, 
smiling, “and I really believe that this is what makes 
her so contented. At her age, you know, it is verj’ hard 
to be moved, even for a few months, far from one’s own 
familiar belongings. It is because she dreaded this kind 
of change, I believe, that my grandmother has been so 
unwilling of late years to go away from the city in the 
summer. Why, I found that she had not had any change 


234 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


of air for eight years, although her doctor had constantly 
recommended it.” 

“Well, it’s all your doing, no doubt, that she started 
off this summer,” said Brenda, as they walked back to 
the piazza. 

Miss South smiled in assent, and Julia longed to ask 
her if she found Madame Du Launay easy to get along 
with at all times. It had been a matter of general report 
in Boston that no one could please her, and that those 
who were under the same roof with her, generally had 
a rather hard time. Naturally, of course, such a question 
as this could not be put to the old lady’s granddaughter, 
and Julia thought that Miss South must, indeed, be a 
wonderful person, to get on so well with Madame Du 
Launay — even though the old lady was her grandmother. 

“ Now, about the Rosas,” said Miss South, “ for I know tha(; 
you both are anxious to hear how they are progressing.” 

“We certainly are,” replied Brenda, “in fact, I havf 
been dying to ask about them ever since we came.” 

“In the first place, Angelina told me about meeting 
you and Nora on the train. I did not tell her that 1 
had already heard about this from you. It seemed bettef 
to have her make a full confession.” 

“ Confession ? ” There was a note of interrogation w 
Brenda’s voice. 

“ Yes, you may have thought it strange to find her in 
Lynn. Indeed, she had no right to be there. It is true 
that she announced to her mother that she was going, 
but this was just when she was on the point of starting, 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


235 


and the poor woman had no power to stop her. Angelina 
took what money there was in the house, and departed 
in spite of her mother’s anger. She said that she was 
tired of Shiloh, and that she wished to pay a visit in 
Lynn. She also announced that she might spend the rest 
of the summer in Lynn, if she could get a place in a fac- 
tory. Poor Mrs. Rosa is so easy-going that she did not 
know how to prevent this ; and, with her bundle of clothes 
under her arm, Angelina had gone to the station before 
her mother saw any way to stop her. You may he glad 
to know, however, that your meeting her, and your word 
of advice, had much to do with bringing about her return 
to Shiloh. She is a flighty little thing, and the sight of 
you, Brenda, and Nora (so she afterwards confessed to me) 
reminded her of all that you and the other girls had 
done for her and her mother, and so she thought that 
to show her appreciation of it all she ought to go back to 
Shiloh, and give it another trial. At least, that was the 
way she put it to me when I went to look her up after 
Julia wrote me that she had been in Lynn.” 

Julia looked rather sober during this recital. 

“ I am afraid that we are going to have trouble with 
Angelina. If she runs off whenever she has the notion, 
it is going, to be very hard for her mother. Do you think 
that Mrs. Rosa is improving ? ” 

“ It is rather too soon for any decided change to be 
seen. But the fresh air, and the exercise that she gets 
every day in the garden, is working wonders. Her color 
is better, and she seems much brighter.” 


236 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“I hope that the other children are more contented 
than Angelina. They ought to be, after we took so much 
trouble.” 

“ Oh, yes, I really think that they are. John is devot- 
ing himself to some tomato vines, and he is picking up 
a good many odd dimes and quarters running errands, 
and helping the farmers in the neighborhood. Even the 
little boys work in the garden; only I am afraid that 
Manuel is in the habit of digging up his crops, to see 
whether his things are growing well at the roots. Nobody 
knows just what he expects to find; but his experiments 
are rather disastrous to his garden.” 

“How Nora would laugh to hear that! She considers 
Manuel her own especial property,” and Brenda waved 
her handkerchief at Fidessa, who had risen from her 
cushion in a playful mood. 

“The Kosas have made a good beginning,” said Miss 
South, “ and I think that in time Mrs. Rosa will be perfectly 
contented in Shiloh, even though she has n’t neighbors to 
run in and gossip with her as at the North End.” 

“ But Angelina ? ” 

“ Oh, well, even Angelina will be less discontented in 
the autumn, when school re-opens. She has a rather active 
mind, and with her school-mates to talk to, she will con- 
trive probably to make herself a centre of interest. That 
is really what she wants, — to be of more consequence 
in the eyes of her neighbors than she has been. The trip 
to Lynn will furnish her with subjects of conversation 
for the rest of the summer.” 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


237 


“ Don’t you think we might go out to Shiloh some time 
before autumn?” asked Brenda. “You know, Julia, that 
we will have to spend a day or two in town having our 
gowns fitted — our wedding gowns; doesn’t that sound 
romantic ? ” 

As Miss South looked somewhat mystified, the cousins 
told her about Agnes and her approaching wedding, and 
Brenda waxed eloquent in her description of the way 
in which the whole affair would probably be carried 
out. 

“ It will be twice as much fun for us as a wedding in 
town, because the church is so picturesque; and it’ll 
be so delightful to have a house full of guests, and all 
kinds of things going on. I don’t really see where we ’ll 
put them all.” 

To return to Angelina; after Brenda had almost ex- 
hausted herself in forecasting the wedding festivities, and 
after Miss South had expressed the proper amount of 
interest in her account of things, Julia returned to the 
subject of Angelina. 

“As Brenda has suggested it, I think that we might 
go up to Shiloh this month or next. I ’d like very much 
to see the Rosas flourishing in the midst of their summer 
garden.” 

“ How near that steam yacht looks ! ” said Brenda ; “ it 
almost seems as if we could speak to the people on board.” 

“I’m afraid that they would n’t hear you. But here, 
take this glass, and you ’ll be able to read the name.” 

“ Why, it ’s the ‘ Opal ’ ! ” cried Brenda. “ That is 


238 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


the Anstruthers’ boat. It went on the cruise to Mt. 
Desert, and its being here means that Philip and Tom 
will be back soon with the ‘ Balloon,’ and cousin Edward, 
too. Dear me, how gay it will be! The reading club 
will languish for the present, there will be so many 
other things to do.” 

“ The reading class ? ” 

Miss South looked interested, and this time it was 
Julia who undertook the task of explanation. She told 
Miss South all about their pilgrimage to Marblehead, and 
the interesting things that they had heard from Amy 
about the ancient landmarks, and made it clear that out 
of this had come their great desire to read rather more 
serious books than they were in the habit of reading in 
the summer. 

“ Why, I thought that you were in the habit of reading 
rather serious books ! ” and Miss South smiled apprecia- 
tively on Julia. 

“Oh, it wasn’t started for Julia,” said Brenda, pleas- 
antly, “ nor for Amy, who has read nearly everything, it 
seems to me. But it was for persons like me, whose 
heads are half empty, that the reading class was started.” 

“ Oh, Brenda ! ” 

“ Yes, Julia, it ’s so. Generally, I should n’t care to 
read in the summer. But this class is n’t so bad, because 
we ’re not obliged to read the same books, nor the same 
amount every week. Perhaps, in spite of the wedding, 
I can make a spurt some day when I feel industrious, and 
catch up with you and Amy.” 


BKENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


239 


“Amy must be a very intelligent girl, to know so much 
about Marblehead.” 

“Yes, she is. Miss South; she’s only my age, but she 
knows heaps more, because she’s studied at home, and 
her mother reads everything, too. I hope she ’ll go with 
us to Salem. We ’re going there next.” 

“Perhaps I can go with you, too, when you go to 
Salem,” said Miss South ; “ I should like to, if I can leave 
my grandmother for the day. I have never been there, 
and it’s one of the places that I have always wished to 
visit. I ’d like to have been with you on your Marble- 
head pilgrimage; but I can make up for that by taking 
frequent little excursions while we ’re here. It ’s only 
a few minutes across in the ferry. Oh, excuse me for a 
minute ! ” 

And Miss South hastened off as the silvery tinkle of 
a little bell sounded from the house. In a few minutes 
she returned. 

“My grandmother is very sorry, but this happens to 
be one of the days when she is very tired, and so she 
cannot see you; but she hopes that you will come over 
soon again, and she regrets that she has had to miss you 
to-day.” 

“We are very sorry, too,” responded Julia; “although 
it has been delightful to have had this hour with you. 
But it is time for us to be starting toward home.” 

“ When will the next barge pass ? ” asked Brenda. 

“ In just five minutes,” said Miss South, looking at her 
watch. “ It ’s nearly half-past four.” 


240 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“ Dear me ! Then we ’ll have barely time to catch the 
five train. Come, Julia, we must hurry!” and with 
a hasty good-bye to Miss South, the impetuous Brenda 
rushed down the steps, while Miss South and Julia fol- 
lowed more slowly. Brenda had time for a farewell frolic 
with Fidessa before the barge appeared. 

“You surely will go with us to Salem,” were Julia’s 
parting words. 

“ I surely wdl,” replied Miss South, “ unless — ” but 
the starting off of the barge prevented her completing 
the sentence. 


XVIII 


A PEOSPECTIVE BKOTHEP-IN-LAW 

For a day or two after her sister’s arrival Brenda went 
about as if half in a dream. It was quite upsetting to 
have a romance going on right under her eyes. For this 
was the view that she took of the engagement. Although 
an artist, Agnes had always been called the practical one 
of the family, and the year before her departure for Europe 
she had been so busy, so absorbed in her art, that her 
mother had with difficulty persuaded her to keep up her 
interest in society. Brenda remembered so well the family 
discussions of that year, in which Agnes tried to beg off 
from this party, or that reception, on the plea that she 
needed all her waking hours for her painting, and that her 
evenings ought to be given to rest. 

“But you know, Agnes, the condition on which your 
father and I gave our permission for you to study regu- 
larly at the Art School.” 

“Oh, yes, I remember.” 

“ It was that you were not to cut yourself off from your 
friends, — from our friends.” 

“But I don’t mean to do that.” 

“Well, that is what it will amount to, if you continue 
to decline all the invitations sent you. You are too 
young a girl for that.” 


16 


242 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“ Oh, but, mamma, if you realized how I long to be a 
great painter, and how I hate all this trouble of dressing 
up and making myself agreeable to people, especially to 
men who are so stupid; really, I wish that I need not 
do it.” 

Brenda remembered these discussions, and she recalled 
(for it was only two or three years before) that Agnes 
would often make her work the excuse when some par- 
ticularly agreeable man would come to call, — “ agreeable,” 
at least from Brenda’s point of view, although apparently 
less agreeable from that of Agnes. 

“ They could n’t even see her when they called on Sun- 
day afternoons,” and Brenda smiled at the remembrance; 
“ for she was always off somewhere studying cloud effects 
or something of that kind. She used to say that she 
thought that the average young man was the stupidest 
creature. Why, I thought that she went to Paris on pur- 
pose to avoid society and to give all her time to her work. 
But here she is spending every minute that she can with 
Ralph Weston, when she really ought to be doing other 
things. Well, perhaps he isn’t an average young man. 
That’s the kind she used to say she didn’t care for.” 

Yet if he was n’t the “ average young man ” from the 
point of view of Agnes, Brenda found her prospective 
brother-in-law delightful. It took her several days to call 
him Ralph to his face, and behind his back she was very 
apt to say “Ralph Weston.” But he pleased her exceed- 
ingly by treating her exactly as if she were grown-up, 
that is, he often asked her opinion on important subjects. 


BKENDA’S SUMMEK AT ROCKLEY 


243 


and he never teased her as the others did. Once or twice 
in the course of the first week he had invited her to drive 
with him, and although this may have been possible only 
because Agnes was too busy to drive, still the attention 
was none the less agreeable to Brenda. 

In addition to the pleasure of welcoming her sister and 
Mr. Weston, Brenda had the excitement of looking at her 
presents. While Agnes had brought nothing that was 
extremely valuable, there were ever so many pretty little 
trinkets such as can be found only in Paris. Two or 
three little stick -pins in curious designs especially pleased 
her. “They go right to my heart!” she had exclaimed 
on opening the little box containing them. 

“Now don’t let them go right to your heart,” Agnes 
had said. “We cannot have any funerals here, — at least 
until after the wedding; ” and all the others, even Julia, 
had laughed, — all excepting Ralph. It was by refraining 
from laughing at what Brenda called the wrong place, that 
Ralph had made rapid advance in her regard. 

A half-dozen of the exquisitely embroidered Swiss hand- 
kerchiefs had also been among her presents. “ I ’m afraid 
that you have forgotten the difficulty that Brenda has in 
keeping her handkerchiefs,” and Mrs. Barlow shook her 
head warningly, as Brenda held up each delicate bit of 
cambric for admiration. 

“Oh, no, I haven’t forgotten; but Brenda is so much 
older now that I am sure there is little danger of her 
losing these.” 

Whereupon Brenda decided to reward Agnes’s faith in 


244 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


her by taking the best of care of this gift of hers, and 
keeping the handkerchiefs — well, perhaps until she could 
show them to her in Paris. It is n’t worth while, perhaps, 
to enumerate the liberty scarfs, pretty fans, and last, but 
not least, the exquisite hat which Agnes produced from 
her trunk for Brenda. Moreover, whatever there was for 
Brenda, had its duplicate for Julia. This had been part 
of the instructions sent to Agnes when her mother wrote 
her regarding her return. 

“I don’t see how you ever got it all in. They are so 
very strict now at the Custom House,” said Julia, after 
thanking her cousin most warmly, and admiring all the 
pretty things that she had brought to others. 

Oh, I had n’t so very much of my own. I am going 
to get the most of my trousseau when I return to Paris. 
So the Custom House people thought that I wasn’t bring- 
ing in any more than the proper amount for a young 
woman who had been abroad a year or two.” 

“Well, they were very sensible. I should have used 
my influence against the Administration [does the child 
know what she means ? thought Agnes] if they had taken 
any of my pretty things away from you.” 

“I’m glad they didn’t conflscate my lace scarf,” said 
Mrs. Barlow, holding up the filmy web that had been 
Agnes’s chief present to her. 

“I bought that in Brussells last spring,” said Agnes, 
“direct from the woman who made it. She was the 
most fascinating little creature, and to see her work was 
the most marvellous thing. With that cushion before 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


245 


her, and all those pins, it did n’t seem as if she had the 
least design in her work. But somehow the pattern grew 
right under our eyes.” 

“Did you see her making this very scarf? ” 

“ Oh, no, Brenda ; but one that was going to be very 
like it. Yet I pitied her. In spite of her skill, it must be 
very trying to the nerves.” 

“And to her eyes.” 

“Oh, yes, it is very injurious to the eyes. But then 
we must have lace,” and Agnes shrugged her shoulders. 

As Agnes was naturally occupied with many things 
connected with her wedding, and as Mrs. Barlow, too, 
had much to occupy her, it fell to Julia and Brenda to 
take Mr. Weston sight-seeing. To display their newly 
acquired knowledge of Marblehead, one of their first expe- 
ditions was to go over much of the ground of the former 
pilgrimage. 

“ Although I ’ve lived chiefly in New York, you 
mustn’t think that I know nothing about Massachu- 
setts,” the young man said, laughingly, as the girls began 
to explain why Marblehead was worth seeing. “ I know 
that it used to be a great sea-port, and that Marblehead 
men rowed Washington across the Delaware. I know 
that it has one of the best harbors on the coast, and that 
the government has named Cruiser No. 10, ‘ Marblehead.’ 
I know — ” 

“There, there!” exclaimed Brenda,' “I do believe that 
you know more than we do about it. Perhaps you ’ve 
seen all the places that we intend showing you.” 


246 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“ Oh, no, I ’ve never set foot in Marblehead ; but I know 
that Elbridge Gerry was born there, and Joseph Story, and 
Commodore Tucker, and Moll Pitcher, and Agnes Sur- 
riage, and a large number of Massachusetts fishermen — ” 

“Did you have a guide-book under your pillow last 
night?” asked Julia quietly, with a sly glance at Brenda. 

“There,” he said, “that is exactly it; the guide-book 
has done it all.” 

“ I thought I saw you reading it last evening. Uncle 
Robert said that he was going to bring one down from 
town, and when I saw him give you a yellowish pamphlet 
last evening I thought that it had a guide-book look.” 

“Nevertheless,” said Mr. Weston, “I left it at home. 
I really do prefer human guides. Suppose you take me 
to some place where you have n’t been yourself. Did n’t 
you say that you had n’t been on the old burying-hill. It 
always delights me to read odd epitaphs. Perhaps we may 
find some worth smiling at.” 

Accordingly, they climbed the rocky hill, which is on 
the outskirts of the town, but a short distance from many 
of the old houses. 

“What a superb view!” and Mr. Weston threw back 
his head and shoulders to get a deeper draught of the 
fresh air at the summit. 

“Isn’t that south, off there?” asked Brenda, pointing 
off toward the sea. 

“Yes, it certainly is,” answered Julia. 

“ Then that must be the South Shore that we see, that 
blue line off there in the distance.” 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


247 


“That ’s a logical conclusion,” said Mr. Weston. 

“Well, I only. spoke of it because I was surprised to 
think that we can see so far. It must be twenty-five 
miles away.” 

“ This seems a strange place for a burying-ground, up 
on the top of a stony hill,” said Julia. 

“Well, it is here because it used to be the churchyard, 
and the first church was put here because the early settlers 
wanted to feel sure that when they were in church they 
would n’t be unexpectedly scalped. I did get this from 
my guide-book,” he added, as he turned to Julia. “They 
used to have sentinels stationed outside who kept a sharp 
look-out for Indians or other enemies. Nothing could 
escape them at this height. They could see all that was 
happening on sea or land for some miles away.” 

“Now for the gravestones! ” cried Brenda. “I wonder 
if we ’ll find anything really queer.” 

You may say that this was not just the right spirit in 
which to approach a burying-ground, but Julia could not 
help exclaiming when she found one that read : — 

HERE LIES Y« BODY 
OF MRS. MIRIAM GROSE 
WHO DE“D IN THE 
81ST YEAR OF HER 
AGE & LEFT 180 CHILDREN 

“ What I ” exclaimed Brenda, running over to read the 
stone for herself. “Well, it really is,” she added, as she 
looked at the inscription. 

“Oh, you haven’t read the whole of it. You are try- 


248 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


ing to impose on me,” said Mr. Weston, as he came up 
and read aloud the last two lines of the epitaph: — 

GRAND CHILDREN AND 
GREAT GRAND CHILDREN. 

“ I wonder if she ever tried to invite them all to a birth- 
day party. The Town House w^ould hardly have held 
them all.” 

There were hardly any other epitaphs that deserved 
especial attention on account of their peculiarities, al- 
though many of the stones were quaintly and rudely 
carved, and there was one that they noted especially be- 
cause it marked the resting-place of a negro slave. Near 
the summit of the hill they all paused in solemn thought 
for a moment, for the little monument commemorated the 
death by drowning of sixty-five Marblehead fishermen who 
were lost in ten vessels during a fierce storm off the Banks 
of Newfoundland more than fifty years ago. 

Thinking of the sorrow that must have come to all 
these families, Brenda and Julia and Mr. Weston walked 
down the hill a little less gayly. 

One afternoon the three went over to Gloucester, — a 
long expedition, as they had to change cars twice. But 
in the end they enjoyed it very much, and, as it happened, 
not one of the three had ever been there before. Mr. 
Weston insisted on going down on the wharves, and visit- 
ing the old fish houses. He found one or two odd char- 
acters, quite worth sketching, and he amused himself 
(and the girls, too, for that matter) by another kind of 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


249 


“drawing.” This, at least, was the term that Brenda 
applied to his manner of drawing out the old fishermen. 

Julia begged to be taken out to Eastern Point to get 
a glimpse of an Old Maid’s Paradise. Mr. Weston read 
statistics from a guide-book, and Julia quoted poetry, and 
they yielded so far to Brenda’s wishes, as to take her down 
to a hotel, where she could sit on the piazza, and see a 
crowd of young people wandering back and forward to 
the beach, to the rocks toward the Golf Links, and where 
at last they had dinner in the vast dining-room into which 
the strains of a small orchestra wandered, in a rather 
hopeless competition with the clatter of dishes, and knives 
and forks. 

They had almost a week of this pleasant wandering 
about, and Mr. Weston used his sketching-block almost 
as extravagantly as Brenda used her camera, and Julia 
wrote long pages in a note-book, which she intended to 
copy into her diary on her return home. Then in the 
evening, when Agnes and Ralph Weston sat apart at one 
end of the piazza, “looking at the stars,” as Brenda said, 
Julia and Brenda talked over the doings of the day with 
Mr. and Mrs. Barlow. They had only a week for these 
pleasant jaunts, for at the end of that time Mr. Weston 
was to return to New York for a fortnight, while Brenda 
and Julia were to go off on little visits. During their 
absence, Agnes was to entertain several of her school 
friends. Her absence had cut her off from many of them, 
and now her marriage was to take her away for a still 
longer time. The absence of Julia and Brenda would 


250 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


enable her to have a larger house-party than would have 
been possible with them both at home. 

‘‘Have you seen Amy this week?” asked Julia, as the 
two cousins were on their way to service on Sunday morn- 
ing. The two girls always walked to church, and were 
very regular in their attendance. It was a particularly 
interesting little church, and it had been built by a very 
liberal-minded man a few years before for the use of the 
summer residents who did not care to go to one of the 
neighboring towns to church. Visiting clergymen of dif- 
ferent denominations preached in it in turn, and’ hence 
people of different denominations attended it. 

There was only one service a day, and Mr. Barlow re- 
quired from his daughter the same regular attendance at 
the seashore that he expected in the city. Amy also 
attended the Rustic Chapel, as it was popularly called 
from its style of architecture, and ever since the beginning 
of their acquaintance she had been in the habit of joining 
the two girls, and walking part way home with them. 

Now when Julia asked Brenda whether she had seen 
Amy the past week, Brenda felt a little uncomfortable 
thrill pass through her. 

“No, I haven’t,” she replied, shortly. Indeed, if the 
truth were told, she had hardly thought of Amy since 
Agnes’ home-coming. 

“I have been wondering,” said Julia, — “I have been 
wondering about the reading class. Perhaps Amy ex- 
pected to hear something from us about it.” 

“I don’t see why,” responded Brenda. “We can’t 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 251 

have her on our minds all the time. Not that I don’t 
like her,” she added, hastily, noting Julia’s look of sur- 
prise; “but of course we’ve had so many other things 
to do this week.” 

“Yes,” said Julia, a little doubtfully; “but still — 
still — ” 

“Now, Julia, Amy is more my friend than she is yours. 
So you don’t have to stand up for her.” 

Julia said no more, although she wondered why a longer 
acquaintance should entitle Brenda to greater liberty in 
neglecting Amy. It was true that the actual time since 
they had last met was not so very great, — little more than 
ten days. Yet there had been a kind of understanding 
that the girls should meet every two or three days — “ if not 
oftener,” Nora had said — to read together, and discuss 
their books. 

A week had now passed without a meeting of this kind,, 
and Julia wondered if Brenda had made an explanation to 
Amy. From Brenda’s present tone she felt quite -sure 
that no explanation had been made, and she felt sorry that 
she had not attended to it herself. Now Amy, when she 
saw the two cousins taking their seats in church, looked 
at Brenda with more or less bitterness in her thoughts. 
It was plain that Brenda had had no compunction about 
dropping her. She would have cared less had not cousin 
Joan and Fritz both been ready to talk to her about it. 
Fritz had not meant to annoy her, but in offering once or 
twice to go on his wheel with a message for her to the 
girls at Rockley, he had not pleased her. His intentions. 


252 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


however, had been the best in the world, for since their 
reconciliation over the stranded boat he had never once 
teased Amy. Such goodness could not last indefinitely, 
but for the present Amy appreciated it. 

With cousin Joan, however, it was different. 

“It is just as I told you,” she said, — “just as I told 
you. I hear that there are to be great goings-on at Rock- 
ley, — a wedding and other things. Minnie Murphy’s 
aunt is going over there to accommodate, as a cook. Of 
course at such a time they won’t think of you. I told you 
that it would n’t do to set too much by those city people. 
They ’re always taken up with their own affairs. Well, 

‘ put not your trust in princes, ’ — that reminds me, 
Amy that I wish you ’d ask your mother not to have 
the custard quite so sweet. So much sugar don’t agree 
with me.” 

“I should say not,” said poor Amy to herself, as she 
walked downstairs to attend to little things in the kitchen. 
The little Murphy girl worked for Mrs. Redmond only 
in the morning, and the rest of the work of the house 
after the noon meal was shared by mother and daughter. 
It did not greatly soothe poor Amy’s ruffled feelings to 
see from her window, when she looked out, the Barlow beach- 
wagon passing, loaded with young people in the greatest 
spirits. To be sure, all told, there were only half a dozen, 
— Julia and Brenda, Tom Hearst and Philip, who had 
come over for the day, and Mr. Weston and Agnes. But 
Amy, as she heard their laughter as they passed by, felt 
sadly neglected, and her expression was so sombre that 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


253 


her mother, coming in with her easel, was on the point of 
asking her what the matter was. On second thought, she 
said nothing at the time. She, too, had seen the beach- 
wagon as she walked up the road, and she understood why 
Amy looked so unhappy. 


XIX 


MAINE AND MANCHESTER 

To Julia the visit to Eliza in Maine had all the charm 
of novelty. Her uncle and aunt had yielded to her urgent 
request, and she had been permitted to travel alone from 
Beverly. At Beverly she had taken the train on the 
main line, and there she had parted with Brenda, who was 
to take the branch road for Manchester-by-the-sea. Julia 
had been invited to join her on this visit to Edith, and 
she had promised to shorten her visit to Maine by a few 
days in order to have a little time at Manchester-by-the- 
sea before her return to Rockley and the wedding. 

“I can’t imagine how I am to get along without my 
two young relatives-to-be,” said Mr. Weston, laughing, as 
he bade them good-bye. He had insisted on going to 
Beverly with them, and he had presented each of them 
with a large box of nougat to console her on the way. 

“I shall certainly be unable,” he continued, “to go on 
any more pilgrimages, and I shall be driven to — ” 

“Devote yourself to Agnes,” cried Brenda, as the train 
came in sight. 

“That’s just it,” responded Mr. Weston; “she won’t 
let me. She ’s so wrapped up in her old friends, and so 
busy getting things for the wedding, that — ” 


BRENDA'S SUMMER AT ROCia.EY 


255 


“There’s the train, Julia,” interrupted Brenda; “don’t 
forget to write,” she added, a she said good-bye. 

“No, indeed, I ’ll write first,” replied Julia, as the train 
pulled up. 

Now, as letters from one school-girl to another often 
touch on things that an older person might not think 
worth mentioning, two of the letters of the cousins may 
give the best possible idea of their visits. 

“Dear Brenda,’’ — 

(for it was Julia, as might have been expected, who 
wrote first.) 

Dear Brenda, — I am afraid that you will think this a 
very stupid letter, for really nothing has happened since I 
came here, except the little commonplace things that happen 
on a farm. I miss the ocean, and I shall be very glad to see 
it again. Eliza is as happy as can be. She is the head of 
a household, and she makes the most of it. Her little nieces 
and nephews are made to “toe the mark,” as she calls it, in 
a way that is truly wonderful. I have been held before 
them, it seems, as a model, ever since their aunt took charge 
of them. In consequence, it was two or three days before I 
could get them to say a word to me. The youngest merely 
stared at me every minute with her finger in her mouth, and 
the elder boy and girl stared, and said, “yes, ma’am,” and 
“no, ma’am,” when I spoke to them. They have gradually 
improved, and yesterday they asked if they might name the 
new calf for me. Eliza had told them that it would not be 
respectful unless I gave my consent, and when they found 
that I was willing, they were perfectly dejighted. You may 
laugh when I tell you that I shed a few tears at poor Prince’s 
grave. They have made a regular mound above it, and have 


256 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


marked it with a tablet of wood, painted white and neatly 
lettered. Eliza was almost as fond of Prince as I was. 
Ever since I came here I have been going to bed at about 
half -past eight, and rising at six. That is the way in the 
country. Eliza’s brother gets up at dawn, and breakfasts at 
some unheard-of hour. That ’s why country people look so 
much older than they are. They get more time into a year 
than most of us do. The other day I went to a sewing-circle 
tea-party. In some ways it was rather funny. I T1 not try 
to tell you until I see you just what it was like. I am glad 
that I brought some books with me, for I have unlimited 
time for reading. I go out to a field that rises up back of 
the house, on one side of which is a little pine grove. 
There, in the shade, I am perfectly happy and comfortable 
until Eliza comes along and tries to do something for my 
entertainment. I am rather glad they are haying now; 
otherwise, I should have to drive all the time. This warm 
weather it is so much pleasanter to sit still and read. That 
reminds me of the reading class. I hope that you did write 
to Amy. I did not like to myself, for fear you would think 
me officious. Of course I do not know her as well as you 
do, but still I feel as if she might wonder what had become 
of us. If you haven’t written to her, you will, won’t you? 
I suppose that you are having a perfectly beautiful time 
at Manchester. Give my love to Edith. What fun we 
shall have at the wedding! To think that it is only two 
weeks off! 

Affectionately, 

J ULIA. 

Now if Julia had been able to go farther into details in 
her letter, she might have told — but no, her modesty 
would never have let her tell — of many things that she 
had been able to do for Eliza and the young nieces and 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


257 


nephews. A country farmer has not much money to 
spare, and Julia, when she found that Eliza’s namesake, 
the eldest of the family, was anxious to study music, was 
only too glad to pay for a six months’ course of lessons in 
advance. The girl already could play a few hymn-tunes 
on the cabinet organ, which was the most pretentious 
piece of furniture in the little parlor, and she had con- 
fided to Julia that when she could perform the longer 
pieces in the book of instruction she should be perfectly 
happy. A large tool-chest, filled with an assortment of 
mysterious implements, found its way to the farm-house 
during Julia’s stay there, and the boys and their father 
were equally pleased with it. Another box — a large one, 
this time — brought a collection of standard books. Julia 
had discovered that a great need of the little community 
was good books, and she had in mind the elder Eliza and 
her brother, and some of the heads of families in the 
neighborhood, when she ordered from town Sir John Lub- 
bock’s “Hundred Best Books,” in the uniform and in- 
expensive binding into which a certain publisher had put 
them. 

“Some of them,” she said to herself, “will certainly be 
above the heads of most of the people here. But it ’s 
better for them to have books that they will have to climb 
up to, rather than books they must grovel over, like some 
of the novels they read.” 

In the village, Julia found one or two helpless old people 
supported half by charity and by the grudging help of 
distant relatives. 


17 


258 


BRENDANS SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“Old Mrs. Tracy,” said Eliza, “is in constant fear that 
she ’ll have to go to the poor-house. If her son and his 
wife had n’t been killed in that railroad accident, she ’d 
never have come to this, and she ’s such a good, pious 
woman, too.” 

So it happened that Julia, after talking it over carefully 
with Eliza, offered to pay the three dollars a week that 
would keep the old lady off the town, and compensate the 
cousin with whom she lived for taking care of her. Old 
Mr. Steiner, with his wooden leg, was another of Julia’s 
proteges. 

“If I ’d a-lost that leg in the war, I ’d a-had a pension; 
but just because I tried to stop a runaway horse, it don’t 
seem right that I should be so helpless. I stopped the 
horse fast enough, and I was knocked down and dragged, 
so that my leg had to be amputated.” 

Old Mr. Steiner said “boss” and “ampitated,” but 
Julia had great interest in him because she knew that his 
bravery had saved two lives. The people whom he had 
rescued were too poor to do more than offer him a 
home, when a worthless son had made him lose his farm 
through a mortgage note. The three dollars a week 
which she guaranteed to them made old Mr. Steiner 
as happy as a king, and he overwhelmed her with his 
thanks. 

“You won’t have to pay it a great many years. Miss 
Julia,” said Eliza. “They’re neither of them going to 
hold out much longer. But you could n’t have made your 
money go a greater ways in doing good than you have. 


BRENDA'S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


259 


For it ’s very hard for old people to feel that they ’re a 
burden on the people they’re living with.” 

In other ways Julia found opportunities for making her- 
self helpful to some of the less fortunate with whom . she 
came in contact. 

She had just returned from a tea-party at the house of 
one of the neighbors, when Brenda’s letter from Man- 
chester was put into her hand. Eliza’s brother had gone 
to the village during their absence, and had brought back 
the evening mail. 

As she read the three or four sheets, written on the 
oblong violet paper which happened then to be the fashion, 
Julia smiled at the contrast between the kind of thing in 
which Brenda was then participating, and that of which 
she herself had formed part during the last week or two. 

My dear Julia, — I really think that you made a mis- 
take in not coming to Manchester with me. You could have 
gone up to the country just as well some other time, and 
really it ’s just the height of the season here, so you ’ve 
missed a lot by staying away. Philip says that you are 
awfully foolish. He ’s been asking about you very particu- 
larly, and you know he does n’t often trouble himself about 
Edith’s friends. I think myself that he was much nicer a 
few years ago. He seems so kind of conceited now. But 
then most of the Harvard boys are. 

Well, we ’ve been over to the Club — the Essex County — 
several times. The Blairs have a new pair of black horses 
that just spin over the ground, so that we are there in no 
time. To tell the truth, I ’d just as soon go on my wheel, 
but Mrs. Blair won’t let Edith ride in August; she thinks 


260 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


it ’s bad for her head. Then she likes to drive with us. So 
we sit on the piazza and listen to the music. That ’s about 
all there is to do. But a good many people come around and 
talk to you, and I must say they^re very nice, and never 
try to make me remember I ^m only sixteen. But then, of 
course, Edith and I are both rather tall for our age — and 
her clothes, well, really, they have just as much style as 
if she were eighteen. Her aunt Emmeline brought her 
stacks of things from Paris, and I don^t see why mamma 
did n’t have Agnes bring me one of those blue crepons. It 
would be just as suitable for me as for Edith. 

It ’s rather fun to watch them playing golf, although I ’d 
rather watch than play this hot weather. Do you know, 
I’ve hardly set foot to the ground since I left home; and 
there ’s some one to wait on me whenever I want anything, so 
that I shall be lazier than ever when I go back to Kockley. 
The other day we had a cruise as far as Portsmouth on the 
Windermere’s steam-yacht — the most perfect thing you ever 
saw — well, it was beyond my wildest dreams of what a 
yacht could be. Then we ’ve been out on Jim Kembrandt’s 
four-in-hand. We were the only girls of our age he asked, 
but then he ’s a kind of a cousin of Edith’s, and he drove us 
over to his kennels at Wenham; you never saw such perfect 
little terriers, and hunting dogs, — well, he has a whole out- 
fit, and I would n’t dare say how many men he keeps just to 
look after those dogs. Some way or other, when I saw the 
care he gave them, and heard how much money he spends on 
them, I couldn’t help thinking of those poor little ^children 
we saw that day in Boston — you remember — begging us for 
flowers. .But I must say that Edith is good about flowers. 
She sends two great hampers twice a week to the flower mis- 
sion. Sometimes they are hot-house flowers, for you know 
Mr. Blair’s conservatories here are almost as fine as those 
they have in Brookline. 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


261 


There ’s been company every evening at dinner — Tom 
Hearst, of course, and Rupert Walsh one evening, and other 
friends of Philip’s; and Frances Pounder has been visiting 
the Ormsbys, and Belle was there, too, for a few days, so 
that it ’s like a dinner-party every evening. Edith wants to 
have something special for me before I go, probably just an 
informal evening at home with a little dancing — a very 
little, I fancy, for the boys hate to dance in summer. 

Of course you ’ll be shocked to hear that I ’ve hardly read 
a thing since I came here. You see, Edith and I have so 
much to talk about. Besides, although she ’s rather serious, 
she is n’t as fond of reading as you are. I miss your influ- 
ence, and Amy’s. That reminds me, I have n’t written to 
Amy yet, but I ’m going to ask her to assist at the wedding; 
Agnes says the more young girls there are there the better 
she ’ll like it. Don’t you feel excited when you think of 
being a bridesmaid? I ’m sure I do. You know you ’re to 
meet me in Boston on the 25th to try the dresses, and 
mamma says we ’d better stay in town over night. She and 
Agnes will be there, so I think that would be a good time to 
go out to Shiloh, just as we planned. Edith sends love, and 
so would Philip, if he knew I was writing. 

So good-bye (honestly, I should think you ’d And it very 
stupid in the country). 

Affectionately, 

Brenda. 

Julia smiled a little as she read this characteristic 
letter, and she saw that her cousin was really enjoying 
her visit. Yet the description of the gayety did not make 
her discontented with the life that she herself had been 
leading during her fortnight in Maine. 

“ It ’s rather comical, too, that Brenda has forgotten 


262 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


that I am to spend two or three days at Manchester on 
my way home. I ’ll drop a line to Edith not to refresh 
her memory, and when I arrive she ’ll be taken by 
surprise.” 

Accordingly, when Julia presented herself at Mrs. 
Blair’s dinner-table a few days after this, Brenda really 
was very much surprised. 

“ How in the world did you get over from the station ? 
Edith and I could have met you, for we were out driving.” 
Then, noting a smile on Philip’s face, “Oh, I suppose 
Philip went over. Well, I dare say that that was pleas- 
anter, still you might have let me know.” 

“Why, you silly girl,” cried Edith, “how forgetful you 
are ! It was all arranged before you left Rockley. Julia 
promised to give me two or three days on her way back 
from Maine.” 

“ Oh, I remember we talked of it. But I thought that 
she would n’t tear herself away from Eliza until the last 
minute.” 

“ I told her that she must go with us on that excursion 
to-morrow, and here she is,” and Edith threw her arm 
affectionately around Julia’s waist. 

The next morning, by an early train, Ralph Weston 
arrived. 

“ When I heard that it was to be a pilgrimage I dropped 
everything and just came,” he said. “You see, I must 
know all that I can about this wonderful North Shore,” 
he said. “ I ’m going to be a tremendous patriot when I 
return to Paris, and I can’t afford to neglect any oppor- 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 263 

tunity for informing myself about historic places. It ’s 
Norman’s Woe we’re to see to-day, isn’t it?” 

“Yes, I believe so.” 

“Well, now can you tell me what Norman’s Woe is 
distinguished for?” 

“ Why, Longfellow wrote a poem about it. Don’t you 
remember ? 

“ ‘ Blue were her eyes as the fairy flax.’ 

Surely you remember how the Skipper and his daughter 
drifted on 

“ ‘ fast through the midnight dark and drear, 
Through the whistling sleet and snow, 

Like a sheeted ghost, the vessel swept 
Tow’rds the reef of Norman’s Woe.’ ” 

“Don’t recite in that tragic tone; we don’t wish to be 
too sad to-day. You ’ll have to be as cheerful as pos- 
sible, so that I may have something pleasant to remember 
when I go back to Europe,” said the irrepressible Mr. 
Weston. “You should retain pleasant memories, too, of 
your last pilgrimage, for I don’t suppose that you ’ll have 
the heart for anything more of the kind when I am no 
longer with you.” 

“Don’t be too sure of that,” replied Brenda; “we’re 
just getting into the proper mood for such expeditions.” 

“All ready,” cried Edith, coming around the corner of 
the house on the front seat of the beach-wagon. 

“Yes, here we are,” and “here we are,” — and from 
various nooks and corners appeared Julia and Evelyn 
Romney, one of Edith’s friends, and Tom and Philip, and 


264 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


Mrs. Pell, who promised Mrs. Blair that she would look 
after the young people, and who afterwards admitted 
that the task had been much more difficult than she had 
expected. 

But after all, one excursion of this kind is much like 
another, and the amount of sight-seeing of this party 
of friends did not tire those who had no interest in 
historic places, and yet it was enough to make the day 
much more interesting to thoughtful people like Julia 
and Mr. Weston, who cared for something more than the 
excitement of a day’s outing. So, after the short drive 
from Magnolia, the two latter hastened over the rocks to 
gaze into the depths of Rafe’s Chasm, and to look out 
toward the treacherous sea, — 

“ where the white and fleecy waves, 

Looked soft as carded wool,” 

as soft as when 

“ the cruel rocks, they gored her side, 

Like the horns of an angry bull.” 

On their way to the little old-fashioned inn in Essex 
where they were to have luncheon, Julia and Mr. Weston 
exclaimed many times over the beautiful woods, that 
seemed to belong rather to a mountain region than to one 
close to the sea, — wild stretches of woodland so markedly 
in contrast with the broad, smooth roads, and the great 
country houses and finely kept lawns which they were 
constantly passing. 

They were a gay and merry party, and this picnic of 
Edith’s (for so they called it, although their luncheon was 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


265 


served to them at the old inn) — this picnic of Edith’s 
was one of the pleasantest excursions of the summer for 
Brenda and Julia. 

“I am to see your mother and Agnes in the city to- 
morrow,” said Mr. Weston, as he bade Brenda good-bye. 
“ I believe that you are to meet them there the day after. 
I may tell them, I suppose, that you are coming. As for 
myself, I have to go on to New York for a day or two, but 
I’ll be back — ” 

“Yes, do come back in time for the wedding,” inter- 
posed Brenda, mischievously. 

“ Oh, very well, if you are sure that I am expected.” 

“ Oh, I don’t suppose that they could get along without 
you,” rejoined Brenda. 

“Well, then, I won’t forget it,” and swinging himself 
up to the seat of the carriage, the young man raised his 
hat politely, as he drove away. 


XX 


THE EOS AS AGAIN 

In their travelling suits, with only their hand-bags, the 
two cousins journeyed from Manchester to Boston. Their 
trunks had gone on to Rockley ; but, to save time, they had 
decided to travel directly to the city. 

How strangely still and deserted seemed the streets of 
the Back Bay! As the cab drove toward Mr. Barlow’s 
house, hardly a person was to be seen, except the police- 
man on his beat, and here and there a stray individual of 
the tourist type. 

The sun poured down on the hot asphalt of Beacon 
Street, and the air was oppressive. 

“How awful the city is in the summer! ” said Brenda. 
“I don’t wonder that no one stays here.” 

“ I fancy that there are a few hundred people in town in 
spite of tlie heat.” 

“ Oh, Julia, you are so practical I Certainly nobody one 
knows stays here.” 

“There ’s Agnes at the window,” cried Julia, without 
heeding the implied reproach in the tone, and in a second 
later Agnes had opened the front door for them. 

“I’m to go with you to the dressmaker’s,” she said, 
“and there may be a few errands for us to do in the 
shops. You must make out a list, Brenda, so that you 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


267 


can get all your shopping done to-day. Mamma does n’t 
wish you to spend two nights in town.” 

“Very well,” responded Brenda; “we haven’t so very 
much to do, have we? We wish to get all through 
to-day, because we have another plan for to-morrow morn- 
ing, if mamma will let us carry it out.” 

When Brenda disclosed her intention of going to Shiloh 
to see the Rosas (I am afraid that she brought the matter 
up as if she had settled in her own mind that she was to 
go), she found her mother at first disinclined to give the 
desired permission. But on Julia’s assuring her that it 
was very easy to reach the Rosas’ house from the station, 
Mrs. Barlow gave her consent. The prospect of this little 
journey buoyed Brenda up during the long hour while 
she stood in Madame Manteau’s fitting-room, having this 
“effec,” as Madame Manteau phrased it, and that “effec” 
tried, so that the two bridesmaids, as far as the clever 
dressmaker could bring it about, should be above reproach. 

“1 ’ll tell you, Julia,” said Brenda, “when Agnes comes 
back we must get her to go into one or two shops. I 
want to buy a few little things for the Rosas, and then I 
am going to get some of my prints at the photographers ; 
I ’ve had duplicates made of those Fourth of July pictures, 
and I might as well get them as have them sent by mail. 
Now, Julia, it ’s your turn; I can’t sit down on account 
of pins and things, but I must keep this on until Agnes 
comes back. I hope that this short drapery will suit you, 
for the two gowns ought to be just alike, and I must have 
mine just like this.” 


268 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


So Brenda rattled on, while the finishing touches, as far 
as the fitting was concerned, were given to the two white 
crepe gowns. Then, with Agnes’s help, all the shopping 
was accomplished, even to the little things that the girls 
wished to take to Shiloh. At last, tired with their day’s 
work, they returned to the large house, which seemed so 
unnatural with carpets rolled up, furniture shrouded in 
white linen, and ornaments put out of sight. 

“ As if the family was getting ready for a funeral in- 
stead of a wedding,” whispered Brenda. 

“Be careful! ” cried Julia; “it might worry Agnes even 
to hear such a suggestion.” 

“Julia,” said Brenda, the next morning, as the train 
rolled toward Shiloh, “ in one way I feel very uncomfort- 
able when I think of seeing Mrs. Rosa. I suppose you 
think that I never worry about that money, because I never 
speak about it; hut really I do.” 

“Why, you silly girl,” cried Julia, “why should you 
worry? — the thing is all settled.” 

“There, Julia,” responded Brenda, “you are really 
rather unkind. How can you call the thing settled I 
That two hundred dollars is gone, and — ” 

“But you know, Brenda, that Mrs. Rosa is no worse 
off.” 

“I know it, Julia; in one way, she isn’t, for you cer- 
tainly behaved like an angel; but you forget the rule that 
papa made. I am to have only one-third of my allowance 
until the two hundred dollars is made up. It will take 
ages — perfect ages.” 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


269 


“Uncle Robert need not have made that rule on my 
account,” responded Julia, gravely. “I do not wish the 
money returned that I gave to make up the loss.” 

“I know it, Julia; but papa has some theory about 
abstract justice, and about making me more careful in the 
future. He does n’t wish me to feel that I have escaped 
without any punishment.” 

“You poor thing! ” said Julia. 

“Well, I haven’t said much about it this summer be- 
cause I did n’t wish any one to pity me. But I ’ve hardly 
had a penny to spend. Have n’t you noticed? ” 

“You could always borrow from me,” said Julia, 
smiling. 

“Well, I haven’t wanted to borrow. Of course I ’ve 
been able to get along. But I just hope that sometime 
I ’ll come across that Portuguese man. I ’m going to ask 
Mrs. Rosa his name to-day. If ever I do, how I shall 
enjoy calling a policeman.” 

“Would you know how to call a policeman?” asked 
Julia. “ I ’m sure I should n’t have the least idea myself.” 

“Well, I only hope that I may have the chance some- 
time,” and Brenda shook her pretty head vindictively. 

The money to which she referred with so much feeling 
was two-thirds of the proceeds from a bazaar which had 
been held at Edith’s house the preceding spring. “ The 
Four,” as Edith, Nora, Brenda, and Belle were then called, 
had been the chief workers. But toward the last Julia 
had been permitted to assist, as well as her friend Ruth 
Roberts. Of course on the day of the Bazaar many other 


270 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


girls from Miss Crawdon’s school had been called upon to 
help in various ways. In the end the Bazaar had been a 
great success, and after all expenses were paid, three hun- 
dred dollars remained for the beneficiaries. But, alas! the 
money was put in the hands of Brenda for safe-keeping, and 
the temptation to show her independence proved too strong. 
Without the knowledge of the others, who were equally 
interested, she took two hundred dollars of the money to 
the North End to show to Mrs. Rosa, the poor Portuguese 
woman, for whom they hoped to expend the money. The 
plan was to remove Mrs. Rosa and her family to Shiloh, 
a country town, where people in the first stages of con- 
sumption were often greatly helped, or even cured. The 
money raised at the Bazaar was to establish the family in 
a home of their own, and the change was expected to 
benefit the children as much as the mother. 

When Mrs. Rosa saw the two hundred-dollar bills she 
begged Brenda to let her keep it in the house over night, 
and Brenda had weakly consented. Soon after her de- 
parture from Mrs. Rosa’s, a young man of Mrs. Rosa’s 
nationality had appeared, who claimed the payment of a 
large debt which he said Mrs. Rosa had owed his mother. 
On this pretext he had taken the two hundred dollars from 
the sick woman, and had then gone away from Boston. The 
report was that he had gone to South America. 

Brenda, of course, was very much blamed both by her 
own family and by all the girls who had interested them- 
selves in the Bazaar. Poor Mrs. Rosa, indeed, might 
have suffered had not Julia come forward with an offer to 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


271 


make good the loss of the money, and thus Mrs. Rosa’s 
removal to Shiloh had been accomplished in spite of 
Brenda’s foolish act. 

But Mr. Barlow, realizing that Brenda ought to be 
made to feel the effects of her folly, had taken the way 
which she had described to Julia, and her allowance had 
been cut down to one -third of the usual amount. Brenda 
had had too much pride to refer to this fact during the 
summer, and as her wants were always well supplied by 
indulgent parents, it is hardly likely that she really suf- 
fered. Nevertheless, she had had to economize in some 
of her pet extravagances, and this to a girl of Brenda’s 
disposition meant a great deal. Deep down in her heart, 
therefore, she cherished a feeling of undying vindictive- 
ness toward the man whom she considered the cause of 
all her mortification and inconvenience. She forgot — as 
we are all apt to — her own thoughtlessness had first of all 
been the cause of her misfortunes. 

In front of the neat little cottage where Julia and 
Brenda and the others had established Mrs. Rosa in the 
spring, the two cousins ordered the driver of the depot 
wagon to stop that August morning. At the sound of 
wheels, a head pushed itself out of the half-open door, 
then it withdrew, and in a few seconds another head 
appeared. Then this, too, withdrew; but just as the car- 
riage came to a full stop, the door was pushed wide open, 
and a small whirlwind flew toward the girls. It was 
Manuel, there was no doubt of that, in real clothes, — that 
is, in jacket and trousers, — with his hair cropped close, and 


272 


BEENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


a broad grin on his sunburned face. He was speechless 
at sight of his old friends, but he clasped Brenda around 
the knees, so vigorously that if she had tried she could n’t 
have moved a step. Behind Manuel rushed Angelina, with 
a red ribbon tied around her neck. She had evidently 
waited a minute to add this adornment to her costume. 

“Why, Miss Barlow, and Miss Bourne, who would ever 
have expected to see you? Dear me, mother will be so 
surprised ! There, she ’s coming, too ! Did you come 
all the way from the beach to-day? Mother, mother!” 
turning toward the house, “here ’s Miss Barlow and Miss 
Bourne.” 

But Mrs. Rosa had already reached the group, and 
J ulia and Brenda looked at her in astonishment. There 
was no doubt that Shiloh had agreed with her. She stood 
more erect, her color was better, and her general appear- 
ance was neater than when they had last seen her. She 
had lost her former hopeless and unambitious expression. 

“Awful glad,” she said, in her somewhat uncertain Eng- 
lish, — “awful glad to see you. Come right in. Please 
’souse us,” she added, as the girls followed her, — “please 
’souse us if we ain’t all fixed up. We works in the garden 
every morning.” 

“Why, I ’m sure that you look as neat as you need,” 
said Julia, as they seated themselves in the little room 
that was at once parlor and dining-room. Probably if she 
had looked closely at the floor she might have seen that a 
broom could have been used on it with advantage, and if 
she had glanced around the kitchen, of which she could 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


273 


see only a little through the half-open door, she might have 
discovered that the breakfast dishes were still standing 
unwashed on the sink. But who could expect a North 
End family to overcome North End habits of long stand- 
ing all in the space of two or three months? What a 
contrast this home was to the Rosas’ former ill- ventilated 
abode! Here the sunlight was pouring in, the windows 
were wide open, and a canary bird in a cage in the kitchen 
sang so loudly as almost to drown conversation. 

“I have a bed all of my own,” said Manuel, pointing to 
a bedroom in which a small cot stood near the larger bed, 
— Mrs. Rosa’s larger bed. In fitting up the house, the 
girls had made an effort to have a separate bed for each 
member of the family, whereas in the city two beds had 
been made to do duty for the seven. 

Angelina, as Julia carried on a conversation with Mrs. 
Rosa, was expressing unbounded admiration for every- 
thing worn by Brenda, — her hat with its masses of 
flowers, her pongee parasol lined with pink, the chate- 
laine on which she carried a number of useless silver 
things, — she even ventured to finger the sleeve of the soft 
silk shirt-waist with an expression of approval. 

“Come off!” cried Mrs. Rosa, in a tone of reproach. 
“ Eet ees not nice to touch the lady that way. How many 
times I tell you, Angelina, to be polite ! ” 

Angelina shook her head impatiently, and sat down, 
holding Brenda’s parasol across her knee. 

“Where’s John?” asked Julia, trying to divert the 
conversation from Angelina. 

18 


274 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCIULET 


“ Oh, he ’s beesy now. He ’n a great help to me. ” 

“Yes,” explained Angelina, “he ’s earning two dollars a 
week, running errands for Mr. Smith. They give him a 
great many things, too; they say he ’s so obliging.” 

Angelina never hesitated to express her approval for 
her younger brother. Apparently she had no jealousy, 
although his good qualities were in shining contrast with 
her own. 

“But I thought that you were working, too; don’t you 
go to the boarding-house regularly? ” 

“Well, almost regularly,” said Angelina ; “but I did n’t 
feel just like it to-day. I got a scolding yesterday for 
breaking some plates, and I just thought I ’d show them 
to-day that I wouldn’t put up with it.” 

“But that is n’t the way to treat people who have hired 
you. It may be that they won’t take you back.” 

“That’s what I say,” and Mrs. Rosa shrugged her 
shoulders, as if Angelina were altogether beyond her 
control. 

Just at this moment the two younger girls, and the boy 
who was next in age to Manuel, appeared. They had 
been blackberrying, and their pails showed that they had 
been successful. 

The three youngsters, freckled and happy, stood before 
Brenda and Julia too much overwhelmed by the sight of 
visitors to say a word for themselves. Angelina had taken 
their tin pails from them, and busied herself in the kitchen, 
while Brenda amused herself with the children. Julia 
took advantage of this lull in general conversation to 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


275 


question Mrs. Rosa about various things, following, in- 
deed, certain suggestions that Miss South had made; and 
she was very glad to find from Mrs. Rosa’s answers that 
the change had really been to the great advantage of the 
whole family, and that Angelina was the only one who 
longed for the city. 

“When winter comes, it will be harder for you all,” she 
said to Mrs. Rosa; “but we will see that you have plenty 
of fuel for your fire, and if you have enough to eat, and 
can keep warm, why, it seems to me, that you ought to be 
contented.” 

“Oh, yes, indeed. Miss,” replied Mrs. Rosa, — who 
could understand English rather better than she could 
speak it, — “Oh, yes. Miss; and if Angelina don’t like it 
I ’ll just whip her.” 

“ Oh, no, she ’s too old to be whipped — ” 

“There, Julia,” cried Brenda, “we haven’t opened that 
box; we left it out on the steps.” 

Running to the door, Brenda found Manuel keeping 
guard over the box. When Brenda asked for it, he lifted 
it in his arms — and although it was not a large box, it 
made a good armful for him — and carried it to a table in 
the house. Brenda left the children to exclaim over the 
various little gifts that she had brought, and with some 
impatience she tore open the envelope of photographs that 
she had brought from town. 

“ There, Mrs. Rosa, I want you to see these pictures of 
Rockley, and other places on the shore. I took them 
myself, and sometime I ’m going to make some pic- 


276 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


tures of you here at Shiloh; I have a camera. You 
understand ? ” 

“Oh, yes, Miss; you make them yourself. Oh, my, 
how pretty ! ’’ and Mrs. Rosa took up one after another of 
the prints. 

“I’ll give you some,” said Brenda, “to remember 
me by.” 

“Oh, yes,” and Mrs. Rosa smiled too. 

Then one of the photographs fell from her hand. 
“You make these all?” she asked, excitedly. 

“Why, yes.” 

“Who ’s this? where you make him? ” and she held up 
one of the photographs that had been taken near Tucker’s 
landing on the Fourth. 

“Why, at Marblehead, way down by the sea,” replied 
Brenda. “That’s a foreign man, too, but not like you; 
he’s an Italian,” she added. 

“No Italian,” responded Mrs. Rosa. “Why, that’s 
Miguel Silva, that bad, bad man ! ” and she threw the 
photograph on the floor and stamped on it. 

At the name “Miguel Silva” Julia had looked up in 
surprise. 

“Why, what is it? Have you heard from Miguel 
Silva?” 

“No, no, he’s there,” and Mrs. Rosa pointed to the 
despised photograph. As Julia stooped to pick it up 
Mrs. Rosa threw a second photograph on the floor. She 
had torn it in four pieces; and as Julia picked them up, 
she saw the face of the foreigner who had saved Brenda 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


277 


from a bicycle accident. While she had n’t seen the affair 
herself, she had been much interested in the story, as 
Nora and Brenda had told it to her, and she had thought 
it a wonderful coincidence that the man who had acted so 
promptly should have been the same man whom Brenda 
had photographed on the Fourth. 

But here, apparently, was an even more wonderful coin- 
cidence. At least, it would be wonderful, if Mrs. Rosa 
should prove to be right; if “Brenda’s foreigner,” as they 
had called him in fun, should prove to be the man who 
had taken Mrs. Rosa’s money a few months before. 
Miguel Silva had certainly been the name of this man, 
and there was no doubt that Mrs. Rosa thought that she 
recognized Brenda’s photograph as a portrait of him. 

Brenda herself was puzzled by Mrs. Rosa’s words, and 
half angry that her pictures should have been treated with 
disrespect. 

“Angelina, Angelina, come here!” cried Mrs. Rosa; 
and at her mother’s summons Angelina appeared. She 
carried before her a little tray, on which were two saucers 
of blackberries and a plate of biscuit. But she set the 
tray down quickly, and ran over to her mother to look at 
the photograph which Mrs. Rosa had taken from Julia’s 
hand. 

“Why, it ’s Miguel Silva! ” she exclaimed, angrily, — 
“the bad man. Where did you get it?” 

Brenda now began to make explanations, and though 
Mrs. Rosa may not have understood her perfectly, Ange- 
lina comprehended that within a comparatively short time 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


Miguel Silva had been seen on the North Shore, whereas 
he had been thought to have run away to South America. 

“ Why, he says that he lives at Salem. That ’s where 
his little boy died,” said Brenda. 

“ His little boy dead ? ” asked Angelina. “ Oh, mother, 
you hear that; little Miguel’s dead. Miss Barlow 
says so.” 

“Oh, the poor little thing!” exclaimed Mrs. Rosa. 
“ He was a nice little boy, though I never saw him since 
he was a baby. Poor Maria!” and for a moment her 
hatred of Miguel seemed to be lost in pity for his wife, 
who, she said, loved the little boy so much. 

The disclosure brought about by the photographs over- 
shadowed all other subjects of conversation between the 
two cousins and the Rosa family. They looked, to be 
sure, at the garden, and praised the work which each of 
the children had done. They ate the blackberries and 
biscuit which Angelina had so thoughtfully prepared for 
them. But Mrs. Rosa could talk of nothing except 
Miguel Silva, and Brenda promised to see if something 
could not be done to make him give up the money; and 
Angelina made many suggestions, even to the extent of 
going to Salem to testify against Miguel. 

“I think that she ’d like to be in a lawsuit,” whispered 
Julia to Brenda. “I don’t believe she’d care whether 
she was witness or prisoner, as long as she could be a 
centre of observation.” 

“We ’ll surely let you know if anything can be done,” 
said Julia to Mrs. Rosa, as they said good-bye. “ But I 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


279 


really think that to try to punish Miguel would be more 
trouble than it would be worth.” 

“I cannot say that I agree with you,” said Brenda, after 
they had left the Rosas. “If that man is Miguel Silva, I 
think that he ought to be punished. He had n’t a bit 
of right to that money; you know papa looked into the 
account and found that it was hardly twenty-five dollars, 
and the man had trumped up all the rest of it. If that 
isn’t stealing, I don’t see what would be. But still — dear 
me — I can’t bear to think that that interesting man is the 
one. Perhaps Mrs. Rosa is wrong about him.” 

“You know his name now; shall you take the photo- 
graphs to him at Salem?” asked Julia, mischievously. 


XXI 


A WEDDING GAEIVIENT 

Now, during the fortnight or more in which Amy had 
heard not a word from Brenda, she had tried to possess 
her soul in patience. Although a little inclined to be cast 
down by trifles, she still had a strong sense of dignity, 
and she knew that it would be very foolish to repine at 
the loss of a friend who had grown indifferent to her. 
Yet while trying to appear philosophic when anything was 
said in her presence about Hockley, or the approaching 
wedding, her heart was still pretty sore. Fritz, by his 
behavior during this week or two regained all that he had 
previously lost in her opinion. He refrained from teasing 
her, and he never once made a slighting remark about 
Brenda, as had grown to be his custom during the days 
when her intimacy with Amy was at its height. 

There may be some persons who in reading this may 
think it strange that Amy — or any one else — should 
attach importance to the fact that for a fortnight, or 
perhaps three weeks, one friend had neglected another 
friend. But persons who reason in this way have not 
witnessed the progress of a sudden intimacy between two 
very young girls. One of them, when a sudden fancy 
springs up, may attach more importance to it than to any- 
thing else which has come into her life. If she does not 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


281 


see her friend daily, she at least expects a letter, and a 
week’s silence is something absolutely inexplainable and 
hardly to be forgiven. Now the friendship of Amy and 
Brenda had at first been of this intense type, and of the 
two Brenda had seemed the more devoted. But to this 
friendship one might apply the old fable of the moon and 
the brooks, apply it at least in a way somewhat different 
from the way in which it is usually applied. For while 
Brenda, like the moon, had many things to occupy her 
attention ; Amy, like one of the many brooks that admired 
the moon, had no other person within her vision quite 
so dazzling as Brenda. Amy, to be sure, in admiring 
Brenda, had not found her absolutely faultless ; indeed, as 
she thought of her, it seemed as if it was on account of 
her faults that she had liked the bright, almost dashing 
girl, so unlike any one she had ever known. 

When Brenda’s failure to visit her was explained by 
the news (picked up in some way by Fritz) that she was 
away, Amy naturally enough looked for a letter. But 
when, after a reasonable time, it did not come, she tried to 
put Brenda out of her mind. If she was not wholly suc- 
cessful in this, she at least did not mention her name, and 
she found a little consolation in writing sad verses. 

At last one afternoon, as they sat in their favorite place 
by the rocks, Fritz could stand it no longer. 

“You must be pretty desperate,” he cried. He had 
been watching Amy for half an hour out of the corner of 
his eyes, although ostensibly engaged in skipping stones in 
the water, which happened then to be unusually calm. 


282 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“ Oh, Fritz, how absurd ! What do you mean ? ” In 
her heart Amy had a fair idea of Fritz’s meaning. 

“ Come, now, Amy, I know that I have teased you, and 
I dare say that you think that I am glad that those girls 
have acted like that; they have certainly been kind of 
mean. But really I do feel sorry, and I just hope that 
you ’ll have a chance to pay them back.” 

“No,” she said, without any bitterness, “I don’t really 
feel that way; but of course it’s disappointing. That’s 
why I never wished to know those city people before. I 
always felt that they could not be entirely depended on. 
Their way of living is very different from mine. They 
have so many friends, and they can travel and do any- 
thing almost whenever they want to. But then, Brenda 
seemed more anxious for my acquaintance than I for hers, 
and she is so bright and amusing that I grew very fond of 
her.” Amy spoke in the past tense, as if her acquaint- 
ance with Brenda was entirely a thing of the past, and as 
if she had little hope of resuming it. Yet it was hardly 
three weeks since they had all been together, — Amy, 
Nora and Brenda and Julia, — and in view of the various 
exciting events of the interval, it was perhaps not strange 
that Brenda had not written to her. Now it happened 
that the afternoon of this conversation of Fritz and Amy, 
happened to be the very day on which Julia and Brenda 
were to go to the city, and it happened that that evening, 
as Julia sat with her aunt, talking of various things con- 
nected with the wedding, she asked her if she as yet had 
thought of inviting Amy to the festivities. 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEr 


283 


“I am glad that you spoke of it, Julia,” said Mrs. Bar- 
low ; “ you always are so thoughtful. I had meant before 
this to call on Mrs. Redmond the day before I went to 
New York to meet Agnes. There was no one at home 
but a little Irish maid, and I left my card. I was out 
when Mrs. Redmond returned my call, and thus we have 
never met. But I am sure that the mother of a bright 
girl like Amy must be an interesting woman. I have 
been meaning to give Amy an informal invitation to come 
to Rockley the day of the wedding. She will enjoy her- 
self, I am sure, with the other young people, and it will 
please Brenda. Oh, Brenda ! ” — for the latter had just 
entered the room. 

“ I hope that you have told Amy about the wedding, so 
that she won’t be entirely taken by surprise. I am going 
to send her an informal invitation to come over on the day 
of the wedding. I shall write this evening.” 

“To tell you the truth,” said Brenda, shamefacedly, “I 
haven’t written to her since I left Rockley. You see, 
there was so much going on, with the engagement, and 
the excursions with Ralph, and everything.” 

“Well, well, Brenda, I should have expected something 
very different from you. At least, I had hoped that you 
had overcome this carelessness. Amy must think it very 
singular not to have had a word from you, especially if 
she has heard rumors of the wedding.” 

“ Oh, mamma, don’t look so cross ! I ’ll go to see her 
the minute I get home, I really will.” 

“Nevertheless I will write to her myself to-night. She 


284 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


might like a few days’ warning, if she is to come to the 
wedding.” 

“ Shall you ask her mother, too ? ” 

‘‘ Why, yes, to the church, Brenda. But she knows us 
so slightly that she would hardly care to come to the 
house, even if we should ask her. In my note to Amy I 
will make it plain that only intimate friends are invited 
to the house, and a few young girls who are your especial 
friends.” 

When Amy received Mrs. Barlow’s note the next day 
she was thrown into a state of great excitement. 

“There,” said Mrs. Redmond, when she showed it to 
her, “you see that you were not altogether forgotten. 
Mrs. Barlow says, I see, that Brenda is coming to see you 
as soon as she returns. I hope that you will be a little 
more cheerful than you have been lately.” 

“Oh, yes, — oh, yes, indeed,” replied Amy; “but do 
you think I can go to the wedding? What can I wear? ” 

Mrs. Redmond looked serious for a moment. “ That is 
a question rather hard to answer. We have so little time 
for preparation, and you are so nearly grown-up now, 
Amy, that I should not care to have you go among 
strangers unless — Well, we’ll see. You know this 
summer we have very little to spend, and it does not seem 
as if it ought to be spent for a dress that you might wear 
only once or twice before it was outgrown.” 

“I know it, mamma ; but still — ” There was a decided 
shadow on Amy’s brow. 

“But still,” continued her mother, smiling, “I think 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


285 


that there will be some way by which you can go to the 
wedding. Only I will admit that I am puzzled.” 

“What’s this about the wedding?” asked cousin Joan 
fretfully that afternoon. “ Have they given you an invi- 
tation after all ? ” 

“ Oh, yes ; we have a regular engraved invitation to the 
wedding itself, and Mrs. Barlow has written a note invit- 
ing me to the wedding breakfast. There are going to be 
a lot of young people, and it will be great fun — if I can 
go,” she said, a little under her breath. 

“Humph! ” said cousin Joan, “I didn’t suppose they’d 
take as much trouble as that for you. A note from Mrs. 
Barlow did you say ? ” 

“Yes,” answered Amy; “I’ll show it to you if you 
wish,” and she handed the little square envelope to cousin 
Joan. 

Although her expression did not brighten up percep- 
tibly, the old lady showed that she was rather pleased by 
the attention that had been offered Amy. 

“What’ll you wear?” she asked, with more interest 
than she usually showed in Amy’s affairs. 

“That’s just it, cousin Joan. If a pretty dress can’t 
be managed without too much trouble and expense, why, 
perhaps I ’ll have to give it up, although of course I don’t 
want to do that.” 

“Yes, to be sure,” said cousin Joan, so absent-mindedly 
that Amy desisted from further conversation. She moved 
around the room as noiselessly as usual, doing various 
little things for the invalid’s comfort; and after a time 


286 


BKENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


she went down to the little kitchen to get tea ready. 
When she returned with the tray, cousin Joan looked 
much more cheerful than was her wont at this time of 
day. 

“After you ’ve had your tea, Amy,” she said, “I wish 
that you ’d ask your mother to open that trunk of mine 
that she sent to the store-room. There ’s a green paste- 
board box, — a large one, — just under the tray, and I wish 
that she ’d bring it to me. Here ’s the key.” 

When Mrs. Redmond and Amy went in to cousin Joan’s 
room with the green box, the old woman seemed rather 
excited. “Let me see it!” she said, putting out her 
hands rather eagerly, and trying to untie the pink tape 
which held the cover securely. 

Mrs. Redmond helped the old woman, for her trembling 
hands did not seem equal to the task. 

When the cover was removed, she turned back a layer 
of some tissue paper that was near the top, and there, be- 
neath it, lay some white material. 

“ Lift it out, ” she said ; “ lift it out, Amy, I want you 
to see it ! ” 

“Certainly,” responded Amy, lifting the soft web over 
her carefully with both hands, and taking it to the old 
lady. 

“There! ” exclaimed cousin Joan, pulling a string which 
held the folds in place; “it looks all right, does n’t it? ” 

Before them rippled a mass of creamy white material, 
transparent, like muslin, yet silkier. 

“ How lovely ! ” cried Amy. “ What is it, cousin Joan ? ” 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


287 


“ Why, it ’s pineapple silk. My brother brought it from 
India years and years ago ; but it was n’t fit for me to wear, 
or at least I was n’t fit for it, so I just put it away, and 
now, well — Amy, I should think it would be just the 
thing for you to wear over to the wedding; it wouldn’t 
need so very much trimming, and it could be made up 
real easily. I ’ve been thinking about it since I lay here, 
and I don’t see why it should n’t be made just to suit you.” 

Amy was speechless at this thoughtfulness on the part 
of cousin Joan, and she did n’t know exactly what to say, 
or, rather, she did not try to say anything. Mrs. Redmond 
was the first to speak. 

“Well, cousin Joan, this is certainly very generous in 
you. But I ’m not quite sure that we ought to accept it. 
It ’s a rather expensive material for a little girl to wear, and 
I have never — ” 

“Now, mamma, don’t spoil it all, when I want it so 
much.” 

“ Why, Amy, I am surprised at you ! ” and there was a 
note of reproof in Mrs. Redmond’s voice. 

“Oh, mamma, I did n’t mean to speak in that way; but 
I — but you will let me have the dress, won’t you? ” 

Even cousin Joan smiled at the eagerness in Amy’s 
tone. 

“ Why, since you want it so much,, what can I say ? But 
you have n’t thanked cousin Joan.” 

Whereupon, “Oh, cousin Joan, how careless I am! 
Thank you ever so much I You see, I was so overpowered 
at first. It is such beautiful material. Now, mamma, do 


288 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


say that I can have it. You can see, cousin Joan, how 
pleased I am with it.” 

“There is n’t much doubt of that,” said the old woman, 
almost smiling at Amy’s impetuosity. “I ’m pretty sure 
that your mother will let you wear it. There, you ’d 
better keep it yourself now, and lock up the trunk.” 

“Yes, ’m,” and Amy, in turn, laid the transparent 
white stuff in her mother’s lap, and ran off to fasten up 
the trunk. 

“There,” said her mother, as she returned to the room, 
“I have been talking it over with cousin Joan, and we 
agree that it would be a great pity for you not to go to 
the wedding. I can have Miss Storm for a day, and if we 
both work, we can finish the dress. It must be made very 
simply, and I have some thread lace to trim the waist that 
will give it just the proper finish, and you have taken 
such good care of your white sash that it will be quite fit 
to wear with it.” 

“You must take notice of everything at the wedding,” 
said cousin Joan; “I have n’t been at one myself for years 
and years, and there ’ll probably be some very fine things 
at it. I like to hear about pretty dresses sometimes,” 
and poor cousin Joan turned over a little wearily in her 
chair. 

“Take the dress to my room,” said Mrs. Redmond, “and 
I will help cousin Joan get to bed.” 

When Brenda called on Amy the next day, she was full 
of apologies for her apparent neglect. 

“I know that you ’ll think me a perfect wretch, but I 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


289 


did n’t exactly forget you. Only there were so many 
things that seemed to happen all at once, and every day I 
meant to write to you, or to see you, — 1 really did.” 

Brenda was inclined to put the case very strongly, be- 
cause she knew that she was more than a little in the 
wrong. It was n’t just the thing to “ make everything, ” 
as the girls said, of a friend, and then drop her suddenly. 
At fifteen, a week in length is like a month to one who is 
older, and Amy had really felt very forlorn. In conse- 
quence, while she accepted Brenda’s apologies, in her 
manner there was just enough dignity to make Brenda 
feel a little uncomfortable. 

After the first explanations were over, however, both 
girls were soon deep in all the details of the wedding. 
Brenda described her dress and Julia’s — they were to be 
the only bridesmaids — so vividly that Amy could picture 
them as they should look on that eventful day, from the 
wreath of white roses that they were to wear to the tips 
of their bronze shoes. A day or two earlier Amy might 
have listened with less interest to this glowing descrip- 
tion; but now, as she thought of the pineapple silk, she 
knew that she was pretty sure herself to be one of the gay 
party. With this expectation, she could naturally take 
more interest in Brenda’s lively narration. 

“You see,” said Brenda, “Agnes wishes me to have as 
jolly a time as possible out of it, and so I am to have all 
the girls, Frances and Edith and Belle — you ’ve never 
met Frances or Belle, and Nora, of course. It ’s too bad 
that Ruth Roberts can’t be here, — she ’s a great friend of 

19 


290 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


Julia’s; but they ’ve gone out West, her mother and she, 
and they won’t be back until the end of September.” 

“She must be very sorry to miss it.” 

“Oh, yes, indeed; but we ’ll have a large party, and we 
can have a fine time. I ’m sending special invitations to 
about twenty girls whom I know very well, who are here 
along the Shore. I ’m awfully glad that you are to be 
one of us; we don’t have a wedding in the family every 
year, and so we are to make the most of this.” 

So Brenda rattled on, and Amy, listening, had only one 
regret, — she wished that Fritz might have been among 
the guests, and she felt as if she ought not to take so 
much pleasure in the prospect, when she and her friend 
were likely to be thus separated; it would have meant so 
much to Fritz to have been included in the festivities. 
But it was natural, she thought, that neither Mrs. Barlow 
nor Brenda should have invited him. Old Mr. Tomkins, 
his uncle, led so retired a life, that he was never thought 
of in the social affairs of his neighbors. 

“After all,” said Amy to her mother, “a house without 
a woman is rather stupid. I don’t wonder that Fritz is 
always trying to get away.” 


XXII 


PRESENTS AND PREPARATIONS 

The opening of the boxes containing the wedding pres- 
ents for Agnes had given Brenda almost ceaseless occupa- 
tion for the day or two immediately before the wedding, 
and indeed, from their first arrival, she had taken the boxes 
in charge, arranging the pretty things on tables and shelves 
in a sitting-room that was set aside for the purpose. 

“ Really, Brenda, I wish that you would let Julia take 
charge of this,” said Agnes, mildly. “You know that you 
are not the most careful girl in the world, and I ’m afraid 
that you ’ll get the cards mixed up in some way.” But 
Brenda had looked so grieved af> the imputation that she 
could make a mistake in so important a matter, that Agnes 
had not the heart to say more. Brenda was the youngest, 
and the pet, and Agnes had a tender feeling as she remem- 
bered that she herself was so soon to go away, for an 
indefinite absence from Brenda and the rest of the family. 
Once or twice Brenda’s errors had been discovered through 
the thoughtfulness of friends who had sent a note by mail 
indicating the nature of their gifts. Thus old Mrs. Brown’s 
card, which Brenda had laid at the foot of a pair of frivolous 
candlesticks, was restored to its rightful place in a box of 
heavy silver spoons, while Miss Amsterdam’s card took its 
position beside the gilded candlesticks. 


292 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“It’s funny,” said Ralph Weston, “that a man should 
have sent you a box of embroidered doilies ; they seem more 
like a woman’s present,” and he scanned the card which 
bore the name of one of his bachelor friends, Mr. Henry 
Filbert. Brenda happened to be in the room when Ralph 
said this, and she colored a little at his words. He glanced 
at her rather mischievously, as he held the card in his hands, 
and then, as she came over to the table, and looked at the 
gifts which had most recently arrived, she suddenly remem- 
bered. 

“ There, those doilies are from cousin Arabella, and Mr. 
Filbert’s card goes with this book. The boxes they came 
in were about the same size.” 

“Ah,” said Mr. Weston, taking in his hands the beauti- 
ful edition of the “ Complete Angler,” “ this is something 
like. I am glad that somebody thinks of the groom on 
these solemn occasions. Filbert knows my weakness for 
old Walton, and although the box may have been directed 
to Agnes, I shall claim it for my own. I much prefer it 
to the doilies.” 

Now, although none of Brenda’s mistakes were, perhaps, 
very serious, there were enough of them to keep the family 
in a state of mild excitement, and if Mrs. Barlow had had 
her way, she would have forbidden her younger daughter 
to have anything to do with any of the preparations for the 
wedding. But Agnes’s wedding would indeed have been 
altogether extraordinary, if all preparations for it had pro- 
ceeded with perfect smoothness. At the last moment, 
barely in time to rectify the mistake, she found that some 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


293 


of her intimate friends had not received their invitations. 
Her shoemaker did not send home her slippers in time, 
so that at last she had to wear a pair that did not match 
her gown. But the wedding itself! — well there was 
nothing in any way to interfere with its completeness. 

The groom and a party of friends came down from the 
city on an early train. They were to stay at the house of 
a friend of Mr. Barlow’s until the hour for the ceremony, 
which was to be precisely at twelve o’clock. 

Several of the bride’s relatives were staying at her home, 
at Rockley, greatly to Brenda’s delight. She always re- 
joiced in a houseful of company, and one or two of these 
cousins — although they were only second cousins — were 
girls near her own age, and she and Julia had had great fun 
with them the day or two before. Philip and Tom, too, 
and Will Hardon had been over to call the evening before, 
and had tried to induce Brenda to join in one or two plans 
to discomfit the bride at the last moment. Brenda, indeed, 
might have been willing to yield to some of the suggestions, 
had not Julia rather persuaded her that such things were 
likely to prove more annoying than funny. 

“Well, perhaps we won’t tie the white ribbons to the 
trunks, but there are other things ; you know they can’t 
expect to get off without anything, and Ralph has been 
ready enough to tease us. Why, I never knew any one so 
fond of teasing ; although for the first few days he was so 
very respectful to me ! ” said Brenda. 

“ He ’s very good fun though,” said Philip, who had seen 
Mr. Weston several times at Marblehead, “and I have 


294 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


really taken a great fancy to him. He isn’t half 
bad.” 

“ Dear me ! ” cried Brenda, “ what flattery for my brother- 
in-law-to-be. I must tell Agnes. It will quite turn her 
head.” 

“ Oh, there now ! ” remonstrated Philip, “ you must n’t 
take up every word I say. You know what I mean.” 

“ Yes, of course she does,” interposed Julia, “ I wish that 
Ruth were near enough to be here to-morrow. There ’ll be 
quite a gathering of the clans.” 

“ I know some one else who would second your wish,” 
said Tom Hearst, gazing mischievously at Will, who red- 
dened at the words, after a habit which he detested in 
himself. It seemed to him so foolish that a young man of 
his age should blush. 

“ Oh, yes,” said Brenda, “ Ruth was n’t so bad after one 
got to know her.” 

At these extraordinary words. Will started as if he would 
like to argue with her, and even Julia seemed surprised at 
Brenda’s tone, until, looking toward her, she perceived a 
sly smile on her face that showed that she had not uttered 
the words in earnest. The return of some of Mrs. Barlow’s 
guests, including the two younger girls, from a walk to the 
beach, put an end to the personal discussion, and soon the 
party of young people went out to the piazza, where, with 
their chairs arranged in a large semicircle, they passed a 
merry hour together. At length, when the three sopho- 
mores, or rather juniors, took their leave, Julia said, in an 
aside to Philip, “Now you won’t play any tricks, will you. 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


295 


on Agnes, to-morrow ? ” and Philip replied also in an aside, 
“ Well, if you wish me not to, why, of course I won’t.” 

Ever since the day at Shiloh, when they went up to 
inspect the newly furnished Rosa cottage, Julia and Philip 
had had a little more interest in each other than ever before. 
Philip had discovered that Julia was not only companion- 
able, but that she was so sensible that it was well worth 
while to pay attention to what she said. 

“ Are you really going to sleep on the ‘ Balloon’ to- 
night ? ” called Brenda, as the three youths were walking 
away. 

“Yes, indeed,” responded Tom. “ I ought to have told 
you before, that if you happen to have more guests than 
you can accommodate at Rockley, you might as well send 
them over to the boat. We have quantities of room, in 
fact, a whole berth to spare.” 

“I noticed, all the same,” said Will, smiling, “that you 
advised us to have our valises sent over to the hotel, as 
we would find it more comfortable to dress there to-morrow.” 

“ Naturally, dressing for a wedding is different from 
anything else,” responded Tom; “and I knew that I 
should need all the spare room on the ‘ Balloon ’ to-morrow 
to spread around in my best togs — beg your pardon, 
ladies — toggery. You see, we wish to look our very 
best when we appear in church.” 

Philip and Will were already some distance down the 
road, whence their voices floated with, “ Good-night, 
ladies, good-night, ladies, good-night, ladies, we ’re going 
to leave you now.” 


296 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


As they went to their rooms that night, — or rather to 
their room, since the number of guests in the house made 
it necessary for Brenda and Julia to share the same room, 
— “Julia,” said Brenda, “there’s one thing I’m very 
sorry for. My present to Agnes is n’t really my present.” 

“ Why, what do you mean, Brenda ? ” 

“Well, you know that I am still saving up for Mrs. 
Kosa’s money; why, really it seems as if it would take 
me years, and so I never have anything to spend as I 
wish. Don’t you think it’s rubbing it in rather hard 
to make me pay it all back?” 

Brenda’s tone was so melancholy, so absurdly melancholy, 
that Julia laughed in spite of herself. Then, fearful lest 
she might have offended her, responded, — 

“ It certainly is rather hard for you. But uncle Robert 
evidently wishes to teach you a lesson.” 

“You see, he made me calculate just how much I could 
afford to spend for Agnes, and he really kept me down 
to ten dollars. That doesn’t seem much to spend for 
a wedding present for your own sister, does it ? ” 

“ Oh, Agnes will never think of the cost of what you 
give her, and I know that she was perfectly delighted 
with that little cream jug. It really is as pretty as can 
be, and it ’s heavy enough in proportion to its size.” 

“Well, if it hadn’t been for the fuss about this Rosa 
money, I should have been let spend three times as much. 
Oh, Julia, I’ve hardly been able to think about it this 
week, we’ve been, so busy; but if that bicycle man 
really is the one who took Mrs. Rosa’s money, I don’t 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 297 

know what I shall do. I ’m beginning to hate him 
already.’’ 

“ My dear ! ” exclaimed J ulia, somewhat shocked. 

“ Well, I can’t help it.” 

“ But he has never done you any harm.” 

-A.h, but it s just the same thing. I am feeling the 
effects of it more than any one else.” 

Then, on second thought, Brenda added, “ Oh, of course, 
you have really had to spend more money, as long as you 
thought it best to make it up to Mrs. Rosa. But you 
don’t seem to care about spending money, as I do,” and 
Brenda sighed a heavy sigh. “ Just as soon as the wed- 
ding is over I ’m going over to Salem to see how that man 
lives. Probably we can persuade him to give part of it 
back.” 

“ You ’d better not go without an older person,” said 
Julia, anxiously. “I don’t think that it would be exactly 
safe.” 

“ I ’ll take you with me,” replied Brenda, “ and perhaps 
Amy; with two such wise persons, I couldn’t possibly 
get into any harm. Could I?” 

“I’m not so sure,” responded Julia, smiling. “We 
can’t always tell where harm is lurking.” 

“Well, for further protection, we might take Miss 
South. But good-night, I’m sleepy now.” 

The first of September dawned mild and pleasant. 
There was a slight haze in the air such as one may look 
for in September, a haze which may mean rain, or may 
not. Brenda, as she looked out toward the sea, before 


298 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


she was fully dressed, called to Julia, who was in a room 
across the hall. 

“ Oh, Julia, what shall we do if it rains ; there are only 
one or two closed carriages, and — ” 

“ Don’t worry,” and there was a laugh in Julia’s voice. 
“You always look on the dark side. It is n’t going to 
rain.” 

“ But it looks so kind of hazy.” 

“ Ah, if you were more in the habit of rising early, 
you ’d know that it is the regular thing on a September 
morning for the sun to have a downcast look. By the time 
you have finished your breakfast, it may be scorching.” 

“I don’t know,” said Brenda. “I wonder if any one 
else is up.” 

“Well, we ought to be down as soon as possible; there 
will be ever so many little things for us to do.” 

“ Oh, I ’m dressing as fast as I can ; I want to see if 
more presents have come. There ’s an early train ; and 
some things may have come on that.” 

Brenda’s early rising on this wedding morning was 
rewarded by the finding of several handsome presents 
which had come by the late express the night before. 
Moreover, she was able to give directions (which, however, 
were not strictly followed) to the men who were decorat- 
ing the house with flowers. 

The long sitting-room, with its windows opening upon 
the piazza, was trimmed almost entirely with white chrys- 
anthemums, which the florists had been able to get by 
some process known only to themselves, some time ahead 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


299 


of the season. Goldenrod and an abundance of glossy 
foliage from various shrubs were twined around the bal- 
usters, and festooned over the tops of the doors and 
windows. There were masses of white banked up on the 
mantelpieces, and the fireplaces were filled with golden- 
rod. There was very little, indeed, for any onlooker to 
alter or suggest, and whatever Brenda did say, was said 
rather with the intent of showing her authority, than be- 
cause she expected to accomplish much by her suggestions. 

The family came down and had breakfast individually, 
one by one. Agnes, indeed, had hers sent up to the 
little balcony on which her room opened. 

There was bustle and confusion everywhere, and Brenda 
was in her element. With her mother occupied with Agnes, 
and a house full of visitors, Brenda felt more like the eldest 
daughter than had been possible for her for a long time. 

From time to time she stole into the side room where 
the presents were still displayed on tables. They were 
not to be shown at the wedding, as Mr. and Mrs. Barlow, 
as well as Agnes, disliked this kind of ostentation, but 
for the gratification of the family they had been placed 
where those who wished could see them. During the 
reception, the door of the little room was to be locked, 
so that the gifts might not seem to be on exhibition. 
This arrangement suited all the family except Brenda. 
She thought it a great pity that all the guests were not 
to have the chance of inspecting the gifts. 

“ Why, they ’ll think that she has n’t had any presents,” 
and Brenda pouted as she spoke. 


300 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“ If you hear any one express such a doubt,” said her 
father, “you might explain,” and he pinched her ear 
playfully. “ Just tell any doubters that there has n’t been 
such a display at the Shore within the memory of the 
oldest inhabitant.” 

“ Oh, papa, but I do think that any one who really 
asks to see the presents, might be allowed to.” 

“Well, I’m not really a cruel-hearted tyrant,” said her 
father, laughing, “and if any one of our guests really 
considers herself ill-treated because she (it is sure to be 
a girl) has not had a glimpse of the wedding-gifts, why 
invite her in. You know how to open the door.” 

“ Oh, well, of course,” said Brenda, “ you understand 
what I mean. It would seem rather funny to have to 
refuse any one who had given a present. She might 
think that we had exchanged it, or something.” 

Long before half-past eleven, the hour at w'hich they 
were to start for the church, Julia and Brenda’s two young 
cousins from Albany, and their mother, Mrs. Tolbaird, 
and two or three other relatives who were staying at Mrs. 
Barlow’s, were seated on the front piazza. Mr. Barlow 
was walking around in the garden, rather uneasily, — for 
a wedding in the family is not as great a pleasure to the 
men-relatives of the bride, as to the w^omen of the house- 
hold, — when suddenly there came a loud shriek from the 
back of the house. 

“Dear me, what can that be?” cried Mrs. Tolbaird, 
sinking back in her chair. Mrs. Tolbaird was very nerv- 
ous, and on occasion had been known to have hysterics. 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 301 

When the shriek came again, cousin Edward Elston, who 
knew her peculiarity, rushed toward her, and seized the 
large fan which lay in her lap. “ Don’t worry,” he cried, 

it can’t be anything ; ” but when the third shriek came, 
he rushed to the back of the house, where Mr. Barlow had 
hastened at the first sound. 

In a moment Brenda had followed them, filled with 
curiosity; while Julia remained with Mrs. Tolbaird and 
the little girls on the front piazza. 

“ It was probably one of the servants,” she said, reassur- 
ingly. “They are very excitable. Probably the cook 
has seen a snake in the grass.” 

“ Do they have snakes here ? ” asked one of the younger 
girls, with interest. 

“ I have seen those tiny little green ones,” responded 
Julia; “ but they would n’t hurt any one.” 

“ I think that this snake must have bitten Marj", she 
made such a noise,” said the second young cousin; and 
then, somewhat to Julia’s relief, Brenda came around 
the corner of the piazza, looking a little crestfallen. 

Below the house, on the gravelled walk, Mr. Barlow 
and cousin Edward Elston quickly came in sight. They 
seemed to form a kind of guard over a strangely dressed 
woman, with black hair, who carried a basket on her arm. 
Some distance behind walked the housemaids, and one or 
two other domestics, who all were talking and gesticulat- 
ing very violently. 

When Mr. Barlow reached the gate, he pointed up the 
road, and seemed to give Thomas some orders. The 


302 


BRENDANS SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


woman started in the direction of the railway station, 
which was not so very far from the house, and Thomas 
followed at a little distance behind. 

“There,” said Mr. Barlow, finally, wiping his brow as he 
walked up to the steps. “ So that was a friend of yours, 
Brenda; I should really like to know how you have 
found a chance to extend your acquaintance among 
gypsies.” 

“ I never saw her but once, papa ; she is n’t a friend.” 

“ Well, she said that you had asked her to come over 
here to see you, and she certainly had your name and 
address written in your own hand on a piece of 
paper.” 

Now, with all her faults, Brenda was never untruthful, 
and even at this trying moment, with Mrs. Tolbaird look- 
ing at her in surprise, she would not tell what was not 
true. 

“ Yes,” she said, almost ready to break into tears ; “ yes, 
I did.” 

“Well, it’s rather a pity that she should have come 
at this particular time. If she had stayed a few moments 
longer in the smoking-room, she might have helped her- 
self to anything that she particularly fancied among the 
wedding presents.” 

Brenda could say nothing in reply. 

“ It was your fault, too, that the door of the smoking- 
room was unlocked. The woman may have meant no 
harm in entering it directly from the piazza. She was 
not supposed to know what there was inside. But it 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


303 


was no wonder that Mary, coming up from the garden, 
should have screamed to see a strange gypsy standing in 
the midst of the wedding presents. I only hope that she 
did not steal anything.” At the thought of such a catas- 
trophe, Brenda cried out, “Oh, have her arrested, papa, 
perhaps she did! Oh, what will Ralph and Agnes 
say!” 

“ There, there, it is more than probable that no harm has 
been done. When you admitted that you knew her, and had 
invited her to come over here, I could not treat her exactly 
like a criminal. Besides, Mary says that the woman had 
been there but a minute. But how did you happen to know 
her?” 

“It was when Nora and I were on our bicycles. We 
had our fortunes told.” 

“Well, well,” said Mr. Barlow, “I thought that Nora 
had more sense.” 

“ Oh, it was I who thought of it,” said Brenda; “but I 
never supposed that she would really come to the house. 
She said that she would like to buy old clothes.” 

“There,” said Mr. Elston, looking down the road, 
“ there are my men just below the stable. They are to be 
a guard for the house while the rest of us are at the wedding. 
With your leave, Robert, I dl give them their directions.” 

“ Now, Brenda,” said Mr. Barlow, as the skipper and 
mate were marshalled into the house to form a guard for 
the wedding gifts, “this day must not be in any way 
overcast, and so I hope that you will put the last half-hour 
out of your mind, at least for the present. Later, I may 


304 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


have more to say on the general subject of gypsies,” and he 
smiled indulgently. “Not a word to Agnes, either,” he 
continued, as the ripple of voices from upstairs, and the 
closing of doors made them realize that the bride was 
coming. 



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XXIII 


THE WEDDING 

Julia and Brenda had been carefully drilled in their 
small part for the wedding, — to walk immediately in front 
of the bride and her father on their entrance into the 
church, and immediately behind the bride and groom after 
the ceremony. Yet, in spite of this, they naturally felt a 
little perturbed as they stood in the small vestibule of the 
chapel for the second or two needed for the bride to 
arrange her gown and prepare for her march down the 
long aisle. Brenda and Julia were glad that the aisle Was 
no longer, for they found it rather trying to keep that slow 
and solemn step with so many eyes gazing at them. For 
although they knew that they were not the centre of 
observation, they could not help feeling that almost as 
much criticism was directed toward them as toward the 
bride. Even Julia, in talking the wedding over with 
Brenda, admitted that she had felt like turning about and 
running home during those solemn moments when Men- 
delssohn’s Wedding March was pealing from the organ, 
and the whole congregation was turned toward the bridal 
party as it made its entry into the church. It was J ulia, 
too, who admitted that she felt herself the most important 
person in the group, inasmuch as it seemed to her as if 
every pair of eyes there was fastened directly on her. 

20 


306 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


But the girls were able to conceal any embarrassment 
that they may have felt. Brenda put out her hand for 
the bride’s bouquet at just the right moment, and Julia 
helped her adjust her veil as they turned from the altar. 
Neither of them stumbled over Agnes's train, as they had 
been afraid they might when they had talked the matter 
over in advance; and the only criticisms made by the 
spectators were wholly in commendation of the bride’s 
youthful attendants. Brenda, as she passed the first pew, 
saw her mother furtively wiping her eyes, and this for a 
second made her feel a trifle sad. But she was reassured 
as she caught sight of the beaming face of Nora who, from 
her corner of a pew, held one hand against her heart in 
a manner expressive of the greatest admiration. 

Perhaps among all who attended the wedding no one 
felt more thoroughly satisfied than Amy. The pineapple 
silk had made up to perfection, and with its dainty trim- 
mings of lace, even her mother, anxious though she always 
was to discourage vanity, was forced to admit that Amy’s 
dress would not suffer in comparison with that of any 
other girl at the wedding. As for Amy herself, it seemed 
to her as if she could hardly be the same girl who used to 
write rather melancholy verses on the subject of her lone- 
liness and generally hard lot. Indeed, while preparing 
for the wedding festivities, she had not had time to 
write even one poem, either melancholy or cheerful. Her 
mother did not go with her to the wedding, giving as a 
reason that she did not care to make even this occasion an 
exception to her usual rule of declining all invitations. 


BEENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


307 


“ As it is a day affair, and as Fritz will be \^ith you, I 
have no hesitation in letting you go without me,” and 
with this decision Amy had had to be content. Mrs. 
Redmond had not been invited to the reception, although 
Fritz had been asked to it ; and the way in which he hap- 
pened to get his invitation was rather strange. 

“You see, when I discovered uncle Josiah looking at 
that big, fat envelope directed to papa, I suspected that it 
was something that might concern me. It had been sent 
to papa’s club, and instead of forwarding it to Labrador, 
they had sense enough to forward it to me. So when I 
opened it, — uncle J osiah hesitated about putting it into 
my hands, — behold, there was the invitation to this very 
Barlow wedding, and a note from Mr. Weston, asking 
papa to ]be sure to come if he was in this part of the 
world, and bring his little boy. I smiled out loud when I 
read that. I think he thought I was a little boy in petti- 
coats. It seems Mr. Weston and papa once travelled 
together in Europe for two or three months, and consider 
themselves great chums. Well, I had some work to make 
uncle Josiah understand the situation; but finally he under- 
stood, and I ’m thankful that I was able to persuade him 
to get me one Sunday best suit last spring, without 
knickerbockers. So here I am, ready to offer my escort 
to Miss Amy Redmond on that auspicious occasion, and say, 
Amy, I ’ve ordered some flowers for you; I knew they ’d 
be all gone if we waited until the last thing to get them.” 

“ Why, it ’s very good in you to think of a thing like 
that ! ” 


308 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“Well, you see, I ’ve been kept on short allowance this 
summer, for fear I ’d kill myself, or something. So I ’ve 
just persuaded uncle to pony up, as they say in Greek ; 
and he ’s so pleased that I have n’t killed myself or got 
into bad habits this summer that he came down very 
handsome indeed, — just like a father, in fact, which is 
saying a great deal.” 

So Amy and Fritz and Ben Creighton sat together in 
the church. She had already overcome her jealousy of 
this new friend of Fritz; for although she certainly had 
not seen as much of Fritz since his arrival as before, still 
she realized that it was only natural that the boys should 
sometimes plan excursions in which she could not very 
well take part. 

When the wedding party had left the church, all the 
other guests gathered in little groups, and admired the skill 
with which the church had been trimmed, — the masses of 
white and green against a background of palm in the chan- 
cel, the festoons of green, and great bows of white ribbon 
between the pews. Nora quickly joined Amy, and intro- 
duced Edith, and the five young people went back in the 
same carriage to the house. 

“How young Agnes looked! ” said Edith; “hardly more 
than seventeen, with all those little ringlets curling around 
her forehead.” 

“And she ’s really twenty-three,” said Nora. 

“Is it possible?” exclaimed Edith, and both girls 
sighed, as young girls will sigh, to whom “ twenty years 
of age ” seems to mark the boundary of youth and youth- 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 309 

ful enjoyment. Indeed, to many girls of fifteen and under, 
eighteen seems the climax of happiness. When they think 
of the years beyond eighteen, they can hardly imagine 
themselves taking any active enjoyment in life. Even 
Edith and Nora, and Amy, too, who were certainly rather 
sensible girls for their age, wondered that at twenty- three 
Agnes could still appear so young and cheerful. 

The carriages that rolled away from the little church 
that bright September morning made an imposing array in 
the eyes of the natives who gathered at various points of 
vantage to see them pass. Nearly all of those who wit- 
nessed the wedding went on to the reception, for the 
Barlows had a large circle of intimate friends, and the 
spacious rooms of Rockley were soon crowded to overflow- 
ing. • Many of the guests, indeed, found it pleasanter to 
wander out on the lawn, where two or three tables had 
been set under canopies. 

Mr. Weston’s best man was a little too old to devote 
himself to Julia and Brenda, although he had ridden to 
the house in the carriage with them, and had treated them 
with a deference that, to Brenda especially, was very 
pleasing. The ushers, too, who had been chosen from the 
special friends of Agnes and Mr. Weston, were also, from 
Brenda’s point of view, very old, ranging anywhere from 
twenty-five to thirty. The one exception was a younger 
brother of Ralph Weston’s, Arthur by name, a junior at 
Yale, who, in consequence, took great delight in keeping 
himself at swords ’-points with Philip and Tom and the rest 
of the Harvard men. But the girls, almost against their 


310 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


will, were obliged to like him, and they found him alto- 
gether an exceedingly merry and agreeable youth. Mr. 
Weston’s mother, and the rest of his family were in 
Europe, so that Arthur was the only one of his near rela- 
tives to whom the Barlows were able to offer much hos- 
pitality. Brenda from the first moment took a fancy to 
the nonchalant young man, who seemed so absolutely con- 
fident of everything he said, and who was not for a 
moment discomfited by the fact that he was the only 
Yale man in a company that included many Harvard 
graduates. 

On their first arrival at the house Mr. and Mrs. Weston 
took their place at one end of the long sitting-room that 
had been prepared for them, under the bell of flowers that 
had been hung there in their honor. But after a time, 
Agnes announced that she was very tired of this formality, 
and that if every one would excuse her, she would move 
about with the rest of the company. 

“That’s the most sensible thing you’ve said to-day,” 
exclaimed the new husband, with a sigh of relief. He, 
too, had grown very tired of the unnatural position of 
standing up (“like the President,” he had complained) to 
have his hand shaken. “We must stay a certain length 
of time,” Agnes had said when his first objections reached 
her ear, — “An uncertain time,” he had rejoined, “and the 
day is growing rather warm — for September.” 

“ Oh, well, it would n’t do to leave this place until we 
have received all the older guests,” Agnes had added. 
“ As artists, we are naturally regarded with more or less 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


311 


suspicion, and we must do the properly conventional 
thing.” 

“I don’t mind their knowing that I am a Bohemian, 
and what I am, that thou art also,” he had whispered; 
and then in the next breath he had turned to receive the 
congratulations of an elderly lady who had known Agnes 
from infancy, and wished to tell him what a pretty baby 
she had been, “Contrary to the proverb,” he had said 
proudly, “ that handsome infants grow up to be far from 
pretty. Come, Agnes, after such a compliment, you 
ought to let me depart from this bower of beauty and enjoy 
myself.” 

“Without me?” cried Agnes, in mock alarm, to the 
great amusement of Nora, who stood near by. 

“No, indeed, not without you; I think that you are 
needed out there on the lawn to chaperone your sister and 
my brother, who seem to be enjoying themselves in shame- 
less comfort seated in chairs, while we have had to stand 
here for ages.” 

Just then the best man, Mr. Moffit, came forward to 
say that word had been sent by him to Mr. and Mrs. 
Weston, requesting their immediate presence in the dining- 
room. Then Agnes realized that her father and mother 
were no longer in the “bower,” as Ralph called it, and 
suddenly she felt a little tired, and she admitted that she 
was hungry; and, leaning on her husband’s arm, she 
entered the dining-room, while an orchestra stationed on 
the rear piazza played the “ Lohengrin ” wedding march ; 
and a murmur of admiration ran around the room as the 


312 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


well-matched couple took their places at the head of the 
table. It would be a long story to describe the speeches 
made in honor of Mr. and Mrs. Weston, the healths drunk 
in apollinaris, and the occasional tears that fell from the 
eyes of Mrs. Barlow and other near relatives, as the 
thought came to them that all this rejoicing meant more 
or less sorrow in the end, as Agnes so soon must return 
to Europe for an indefinite stay. There was room at the 
table only for the older guests, and the younger people sat 
about in small groups on the piazza, or on chairs ranged 
along the wall of the dining-room. But with the long 
French windows open to the piazzas, they could hear what 
was said as well as those inside. 

Finally, came the crowning event of the feast, — the 
cutting of the wedding cake, which had been the conspicu- 
ous decoration of one end of the flower-trimmed table. It 
was a real old-fashioned bride cake, with tiers and tiers 
of corrugated frosting, surmounted by a pagoda-like struc- 
ture, within which was the tiny effigy of a bride with a 
flowing veil. At the corners of the cake were groups of 
cupids and doves, and, altogether, it is doubtful if the 
North Shore had ever seen a more elaborate and tempting 
wedding cake. 

“This for the bride!” exclaimed Mr. Moffit, stepping 
forward, and, handing her a large silver knife, requested 
Agnes to cut carefully, as untold treasures were con- 
cealed within, the distribution of which might have an 
important effect on the destiny of several in the assembled 
company. 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


313 


At these words the guests looked at one another with 
some curiosity, and one or two of the initiated exclaimed, 
“ Oh, yes, the ring and the thimble, you know, and .those 
things that they sometimes put into a cake ! ” But al- 
though some had evidently heard of the custom, to the 
majority it was entirely new. Brenda, for example, was 
altogether taken by surprise, and enjoyed this all the more 
because she had not previously been taken into the secret. 
During the excitement of going to the church and assist- 
ing at the wedding, she had half-forgotten the unpleasant 
incident of the gypsy’s visit; but now, for a moment, it 
all came back to her, and her face clouded a little at the 
remembrance. 

By some artful contrivance of the confectioner’s the 
cake separated itself into slices without any exertions on 
the part of Agnes, beyond that of raising each slice with 
the silver knife, and handing it to the ushers, who, in 
turn, passed it to the guests. It happened that Nora and 
Brenda were standing together, when Arthur Weston 
gave to them each her piece of wedding cake. 

“Now, choose,” he said, mischievously, balancing a 
plate on each hand. “ I should not for a moment dare to 
make the choice for you, as in that way I might be set- 
tling your fate for you.” 

“Oh, Brenda would n’t mind that,” replied Nora; “she 
rather likes to have her future read for her.” 

“ Indeed I ” exclaimed the young man, with a searching 
glance at Brenda. “Perhaps she traffics with fortune- 
tellers.” 


314 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“Oh, Nora, how silly you are!” and with this thor- 
oughly schoolgirlish and inconsequential remark Brenda 
tried to turn the young man’s attention from herself; for 
she had felt her cheek reddening under his gaze. 

“Now, choose,” he repeated, still balancing the plates 
impartially, “for I ’m anxious to know what you get.” 

“ Why, we shall probably get nothing.” 

“Well, at any rate, I wish to know that you have 
nothing,’^ and he stood there, smiling, while Brenda cut 
her piece of cake with her fork. 

“There certainly is something here,” she cried, break- 
ing the thick slice in two to disclose — a small silver 
thimble. 

“Aha!” and the young man laughed in what Brenda 
considered a thoroughly unfeeling way, “ that means that 
you will be an attractive spinster lady, and spend your 
latter days in the quiet domestic pursuit of sewing. 
There, you ought to be much obliged to me ! ” 

“I believe that you knew what was in it! ” said Brenda, 
crossly. 

Nora’s slice contained no treasure; but from the oppo- 
site corner, Julia and Miss South had a look of much 
amusement in their faces, and presently Julia held up a 
ring, and a moment later she came over to her cousin to 
tell her that the little golden circlet, which had been found 
in Miss South’s slice, was supposed by the believer in signs 
to indicate a speedy marriage; and then, as the girls 
looked over toward the corner where Julia had left Miss 
South, they saw cousin Edward Elston bending over her 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


315 


in an attitude that indicated great admiration; and the 
three schoolgirls exchanged glances which said, — 

“Well, really, it looks as if cousin Edward had found 
some one worth talking to.” It was a standing complaint 
of Mr. Elston’s that the modern young woman was so 
frivolous that a sensible man was not justified in wasting 
his time talking to her. 

“Oh,” explained Julia, in answer to a question of 
Brenda’s, “Miss South has known cousin Edward for a 
month or so. She wrote me about it. She met him first 
at a concert at the Eastern club-house, and she has friends 
on the Neck who know him very well.” 

“Ah!” said Brenda, “I thought cousin Edward never 
went anywhere. He always talks that way.” 

“Well, I know that he has invited Miss South to join 
these friends in one or two sailing parties on the 
‘ Crusoe ’ but Madame Du Launay is nervous about the 
water, and will not let her go. ” 

“It ’s a wonder she let her come here to-day.” 

“ Oh, she likes her to enjoy herself, when there is n’t 
any danger! She likes to hear what is going on.” 

“Well, she has changed!” said Nora, thinking of the 
isolated life that the old lady had formerly led. 

At this moment a shout was heard from the farther end 
of the room, and looking across, the three perceived Philip 
the centre of a group. Soon he was led forward on the 
arm of Tom Hears t, who insisted on his displaying what 
Philip had found in his piece of wedding cake, — a small 
stick-pin, enamelled to imitate a bachelor’s button, and 


316 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


with this pinned to the lapel of his coat he made the cir- 
cuit of the room and piazzas. 

The fourth of the wedding-cake treasures, the gold 
dollar, whose possessor was supposed to become a very 
rich person, by a curious freak of fate went to old Mr. 
Anstruthers, who really was perhaps the richest man in 
the room. 

“Dear me!” cried Nora, “if he’s going to inherit 
anything more, what in the world will he do with it?” 

At that moment, looking out of the window, Nora 
caught sight of a rather forlorn little figure seated on a 
large chair under one of the apple-trees at the edge of the 
lawn. Although the larger number of the young girls at 
the wedding were dressed in white, it took her only a 
second to recognize Amy, and her first impulse was to 
rush forward. But a little reflection, or, rather, a flash 
of insight, showed her that this might not be altogether 
agreeable to Amy, since it would evidently call attention 
to her loneliness. Instead, Nora waited a moment until 
she could speak to Brenda by herself. 

“ Amy seems to be alone on the lawn. I thought that I 
saw her on the piazza with Frances and one or two other 
girls some time ago.” 

“Why, yes,” said Brenda, looking a little confused. 
“ Dear me, how careless I am ; I ought to have looked out 
for Amy more. You see I forgot that , she knew so few 
people here; it seems so like a great family party. I ’m 
afraid that I did n’t even introduce her to Frances, and — ” 

“Well, that was rather thoughtless. You know how 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


317 


foolish Frances is; I don’t suppose that she would say a 
word to her unless they had been formally introduced.” 

“Well, let us both go out and see what the trouble is. 
Perhaps she has n’t had any wedding cake or anything.” 

But Amy, when questioned, refused to say that she felt 
lonely or neglected. 

“But I know that I’ve been dreadfully thoughtless,” 
and Brenda, feeling that she had been remiss in her hos- 
pitality, was thoroughly repentant. 

“Oh, no,” responded Amy. “Of course I did not ex- 
pect to know many persons here, and a wedding is really 
a family party. So I thought it better to come out on the 
lawn. I was in a group with two or three girls. But 
they did n’t seem much inclined to talk to me. I thought 
I ’d come here and wait for Fritz.” 

“No, indeed!” and Brenda spoke in a tone that a 
stronger willed person than Amy could not have resisted. 
“You must come back to the house with me. There are 
ever so many people for you to meet. I am anxious to 
have them know you.” 

So Brenda and Nora crossed the lawn arm in arm with 
Amy, and they walked past the corner where Frances 
Pounder and two or three girls and youths were laughing 
and enjoying themselves mightily. Belle was not there, 
because at the last moment her grandmother had decided 
that it was not worth while for her to go to the wedding. 
But Frances had found other kindred spirits among the 
wedding guests, and although she had seen that Amy was 
comparatively a stranger, she had not had enough polite- 


318 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


ness to talk with her, and try to make her feel com- 
fortable. Brenda and Nora, now on their way to the 
dining-room, stopping in front of Frances, introduced 
Amy to her and the other girls in the group, and Nora 
was purposely rather ostentatious in her demonstrations 
of friendliness toward Amy, calling her by her first 
name, and addressing one or two questions to her in a 
tone that implied that she attached much importance to 
her replies. 

“Why, here’s our young oarswoman! Why, I’m de- 
lighted to see you I ” exclaimed Mr. Elston, who just at 
this moment approached the girls. “ Have you been sav- 
ing any more lives lately? ” 

At this speech, which they could not help hearing, 
Frances and her friends looked up in surprise. Mr. 
Edward Elston was a man whom even a supercilious girl 
like Frances had to admit to be worth knowing. Yet here 
he was, showing undisguised pleasure in meeting this un- 
known young girl, whom they had set down as not worth 
knowing, because they did not remember to have met her 
before. 

Then the mystification of ppor Frances was still further 
increased when Ben Creighton approached and spoke to 
Amy in terms that implied a more or less intimate ac- 
quaintance. For Ben was a person whom she met very 
often in Boston in the winter. In fact, his mother and the 
mother of Frances were cousins, and as he was called by 
the girls of her set an especially good dancer and tennis 
player, Frances would have been more than flattered, had 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


319 


she ever been addressed by Ben with the same cordiality 
that he showed to Amy. It happened, however, that in 
spite of their distant cousinship, Ben had no great liking 
for Frances, and indeed he usually went out of his way 
to avoid her. His eye had been fixed on Amy as he 
approached the piazza, and his cordial “ Oh, Fritz and I 
have something to show you! ” was intended for her ear 
chiefly. When he came a little nearer, so that the whole 
group was in view, he showed his embarrassment. 

“Can’t we all see it? ” asked Nora, mischievously. 

“ Oh, it is nothing ; only something Fritz Tomkins and I 
have been looking up. Amy and I had a bet against him, 
and I rather think we ’ve won.” 

Just then Fritz himself appeared, crying, “There, Amy, 
I believe that you and Ben have won after all ; see, here 
are some of those very mushrooms that I thought could n’t 
be found this side of Ipswich ! ” and he held up the pale 
brown and white fungus, which at a little distance did 
look so like a commonplace vegetable that Frances held 
up her hands in horror. 

“That’s Fritz Tomkins, son of the explorer,” whispered 
one of her friends to Frances. 

“Oh,” said another, “that accounts for his going off to 
dig mushrooms at a wedding reception. I suppose that 
he’s very scientific.” 

Fritz himself, as he followed Ben up on the piazza, felt 
bound to make some apologies, especially to Amy. He 
had left her rather abruptly when Ben whispered that this 
would be a good time to go down toward the brook on 


320 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


Mr. Barlow’s grounds, where the ground was just marshy 
enough to produce those mushrooms. 

“ Mushroom-hunting at a party, and all these girls sit- 
ting by themselves! Well, well, it was n’t so when I was 
a boy I ” exclaimed Mr. Elston, who had been a rather 
amused observer of the interview between Ben and Fritz 
and the girls. 

“ Oh, we can get on very well by ourselves,” said Nora, 
independently. 

Following her cue, Amy added, “Why, no, I haven’t 
missed them at all.” 

At this moment Edith came out on the piazza, followed 
by Julia. 

“Agnes has gone upstairs,” she said, in a tone which, 
though meant for Brenda, was still heard by the others. 

With a hasty exclamation of surprise, Brenda hastened 
into the house, and then the others began to speculate 
whether the absence of Philip and Tom and the other col- 
lege men might not mean mischief. The older guests by 
this time had almost all said good-bye to Mr. and Mrs. 
Barlow, and the house within was quite deserted. Agnes’s 
especial friends had waited to see her off, and Brenda had 
made Edith and Nora and her own particular set stay too. 

“Agnes and mamma really wish it, so that her going 
off will seem as bright and jolly as possible.” Presently 
Philip and the other missing youths came out on the 
piazza, endeavoring to look so sedate that they were 
immediately requested by the girls to give an account of 
their mischief. 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


321 


“If you do not,” and Nora tried to make her voice 
dignified and threatening, “ why we shall be obliged to — ” 

“Obliged to laugh,” said Arthur Weston; “indeed you 
will. I think that we are even with Moffit; but we must 
watch for them, for they ’ll probably try to slip off without 
our seeing them.” 

A moment later Brenda appeared, twisting her handker- 
chief between her fingers, while her eyes looked sus- 
piciously red. 

“ The side door ! ” exclaimed Philip ; “ I never thought 
of that! ” 

With one accord^ following Philip’s example, they all 
ran down on the gravelled walk, just in time to see Agnes 
in her fawn-colored travelling suit enter the carriage, fol- 
lowed by Ralph Weston, who raised his hat in a last fare- 
well, before taking the reins from Mr. Moffit, who stood 
at the horses’ head. 

“ Quick, Brenda, you ’ ve forgotten the shoe, ” but even 
as Julia spoke, Brenda threw a white kid shoe after the 
retreating carriage. It fell far from the mark, but Philip, 
running nimbly, picked it up, and in a second he had sent 
it with a hang against the back of the buggy. 

“We didn’t accomplish so very much after all,” com- 
plained Tom Hearst, turning to Arthur Weston. 

“No, Thomas was a base deceiver in making us think 
that they were going in the carryall. I suppose Moffit 
made him change. We have wasted a lot of white ribbon. 
I had great hopes that they would drive into Salem with 
those long white streamers floating in the wind.” 

21 


322 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“No matter,” said Philip; “there are a number of 
little white bows as well as a handful or two of rice in 
their travelling bags. Young Weston here helped us 
manage that.” 

“You did what you could,” said Brenda, sarcastically. 
“ But come, let us go in and gaze at the wedding presents ; 
I feel so blue when I think of Agnes married and away, 
that I need to look at something bright and shining to 
cheer me up.” 


XXIV 


A DAY IN SALEM 

It was hardly more than a week after the wedding, one 
bright September morning, when Julia and Brenda, under 
the guidance of Amy, set out for their day in Salem. 
They were to meet Miss South at the station in Salem, 
and starting out from that point, hoped to see everything 
of interest in the old town. 

“We ’re at your mercy, Amy,” said Miss South, good- 
naturedly. “You can tell us almost anything you wish 
abodt the witches, or the old houses, and we — or at least 
I — cannot contradict you. I have never been here before, 
and although I have a guide-book with me, I have not had 
time to look into it.” 

“Let us see just where we are now,” and Julia took 
the book gently from Miss South. 

“ Why, the famous Town Pump used to stand almost 
exactly on this very spot,” and Julia, coming to a stop, 
planted her foot firmly on a piece of brick sidewalk that 
formed a kind of triangle in the middle of the street. 

“ There on our left, — I’m altering Holmes a little, — ” 
said Miss' South, — 

“ ‘ There on our left, the slender spires, 

And glittering vanes, that crown 
The home of Salem’s frugal sires. 

The old, witch-haunted town.’ ” 


324 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“Bravo! ” said Julia; “but what are we to see first? ” 

“The first old church stood over there, — the Roger 
Williams Church; you must have heard of it,’’ said Amy, 
pointing to the nearest corner. 

“ Oh, yes, that ’s the little church that ’s in a yard some- 
where back of a big building.” 

“The very one, Brenda,” said Miss South. “It is in 
the care of the Essex Institute. That is a Salem fact that 
I have heard before.” 

“Let ’s go there at once,” cried Brenda; “for as soon as 
we have seen the things like that, that we have to see, I 
want to go down on Derby Street. I ’ve an acquaintance 
down there.” Although Brenda’s tone was serious, there 
was a look of mischief in her eye. 

“You won’t find him,” said Julia; “you haven’t the 
exact address, and besides, if I were you, I ’d leave it all to 
uncle Robert.” 

“ Oh, no, Julia, I want the credit of finding him myself. 
Why, I have n’t said a word yet to papa about it^ ” 

Then remembering that what she was saying was Greek 
to the others, Brenda began to explain. 

“It ’s Miguel Silva, Miss South, — the man who took 
Mrs. Rosa’s money. He didn’t go to South America. 
He ’s living over here in Derby Street, and I want to go 
to his house.” 

“It ’s rather useless to think of it, Brenda,” said Julia. 
“You couldn’t have him arrested, and he might be rude 
to 3"ou.” 

“Oh, no, he isn’t that kind of man. He’ll feel so 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCICLEY 


325 


ashamed when he finds that I know about that money that 
he ’ll give it up at once. Can’t we go to Derby Street 
rather soon? When I want to do a thing, I ’m always 
impatient to get through with it.” 

“The Custom House is in Derby Street,” said Amy; 
“but I did n’t think we ’d go there until we ’d visited the 
Institute and one or two places in this neighborhood. It ’s 
a little out of the way.” 

“Just as likely as not he doesn’t live there at all,” and 
Julia laid her arm on Brenda’s shoulder. “If I were you, 
I ’d give it up.” 

“There are a number of foreigners down at the other 
end of Derby Street,” said Amy; “but I didn’t know 
that there were any Portuguese there; they are Poles, a 
great many of them, and they work in the factories.” 

“ There ! ” cried Brenda, — “ there ! ” and without a 
word of explanation she darted across the street. On the 
opposite corner was a queerly-dressed gypsy woman with a 
basket on her arm. Julia recognized the red-and-black 
striped shawl, and the large black bonnet with its bow of 
scarlet ribbon. It was the gypsy woman whom Mr. Bar- 
low had sent away from the house on the morning of 
Agnes’s wedding. She felt bound, therefore, to follow her 
cousin, and she reached Brenda’s side just in time to hear 
her say, “But you must take something, for it was my 
fault that you came to the house.” 

“Then buy a basket, Miss, — buy a basket,” said the 
woman; “that’ll do.” 

So Brenda, pulling out her purse, gave the woman 


326 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


twice the value of the basket that she bought, and she 
continued her apology. “ I ’m very sorry that you had 
any trouble; but it was a wedding.” 

“ Yes, yes, a wedding. I tole you a wedding. ” 

“ Well, it does seem as if your prophecy had come 
true, ” and Brenda paused for a moment, evidently struck 
by another thought. 

“ Can you tell about people who take money, — bad 
men, you know?” 

The gypsy looked at her sharply, and Julia interposed, — 

“I would n’t say anything about it. She could n’t pos- 
sibly help you.” 

But Brenda was not to be stopped, although she did not 
press the woman to forecast the future. 

“Miguel Silva? ” she continued; “do you know him? ” 

The gypsy woman looked at Brenda without a change 
of expression, as if to say, — 

“ Why do you wish to know ? ” 

“I met him near your camp,” continued Brenda. “He 
helped me — ” 

This seemed to reassure the gypsy. 

“ Oh, yes, I know Miguel Silva. He trade for a horse 
with Jo. He paid pretty good, too.” 

“Do you hear that?” cried Brenda, turning to Julia. 
Then she continued her questioning. But the woman 
now declined to answer. Evidently her suspicion was 
aroused, and to each question she answered ’^simply, “I 
dunno.” 

Finally Brenda turned impatiently away. 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


327 


“ Keep the change,” she said. “ Come, Julia,” and cross- 
ing the street again, the two cousins followed Amy and 
Miss South through the collections of the Peabody Acad- 
emy. They had time for little more than a passing glance 
at all the various treasures, — the curiosities from India 
and China and all the East, the models of vessels that had 
been famous in the days when Salem led in commerce. 
There was a genuine palanquin, there were gods that had 
once been worshipped in real temples, and all the trophies 
that the old sea-captains had brought back were so care- 
fully classified, according to the country from which they 
came, that to Julia, at least, it was tantalizing to have 
only this passing glance. 

“You can come again,” said Miss South, consolingly. 
“There is no reason why you should not come over by 
yourself some day. I am sure that Mrs. Barlow would 
let you — I should like to come myself, only I really can- 
not leave my grandmother very often.” 

“Julia,” called Brenda, “we are going into this next 
room for a few minutes ; there are some strange fish and 
things like that there.” 

“We might as well go on, too,” said Miss South. “I 
believe that they have a very complete collection of the 
products of Essex County, — at least, I have read so. I do 
not know just what there is, at least from observation.” 

“ Do you really mean that everything here comes from 
Essex County, — all these minerals ; why, see, ‘ from an 
old Coppermine near Topsfield; ’ and here is a garnet; and 
it came not so very far from Rockley. I did n’t know 


828 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


that there were things like that in this part of the world, ” 
and Julia bent over the cases in surprise. 

Then the birds that had been found in old Essex were 
even more wonderful than the minerals. There was the 
horned grebe, and the harlequin duck, and the great blue 
heron, and the white pelican, and owls in infinite variety. 
Even Brenda, who was not particularly interested in 
animals or birds, was astonished to find that the neigh- 
borhood of her own summer home contained creatures that 
she had associated only with regions much farther away. 
Some of the strangest of all the specimens were among the 
fishes, — the goose-fish, and the fishing frog, the devil fish, 
and many others, that, as Brenda said, “One wouldn’t 
like to meet suddenly when out bathing.” 

But leaving the Museum with all its treasures, when 
they heard the bells ringing for noon, the girls hurried on 
to the Essex Institute. As they registered their names in 
the visitors’ book, Julia picked up a huge key. 

“What in the world is this? ” she asked. 

“Oh, that’s the key to .the little church,” replied Amy. 

“Then let us go there first.” 

“Why, yes, there ’s no objection. Just follow me.” 

So in a few minutes the four found themselves before 
a small wooden building standing in the yard back of the 
Institute. “It’s like a doll's play-house — a large one, 
of course,” whispered Brenda to Julia. She was afraid 
that the remark might seem frivolous if overheard by Miss 
South. Amy put the huge key in the lock upside down, 
turned it in a direction the exact opposite of that usually 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


329 


necessary in unlocking a door, and at once they were 
inside the plain little plastered building, “the first meet- 
ing-house ” in which the settlers of Salem worshipped, 
and listened to the preaching of Roger Williams, and 
Samuel Skelton, and other early pastors of the First Con- 
gregational Church. When a larger building was needed, 
the little meeting-house was moved away, and was used for 
different purposes, even at one time as an inn. It is only 
within a comparatively short time that it was discovered 
and saved from destruction. This was what Miss South 
told the girls, as they turned back toward the Institute. 

“They ought to have a rummage sale,’’ said Brenda, 
flippantly, as she walked from one glass case to another 
in the large exhibition rooms. It certainly was a motley 
collection, — old dishes, old jewelry, even old shoes and 
old bonnets, saved to show the present generation the 
kind of things their ancestors had worn. There was one 
tiny hair trunk that any one of the three girls could have 
carried in one hand, and the label above it stated that it 
had contained the entire wardrobe of a certain young 
gentleman on his entrance into Harvard in the middle of 
the eighteenth century. 

There was old furniture of various styles, — a spinet 
with yellow keys; there were old samplers still looking 
fairly fresh, though the fingers that had worked them had 
been dust for a century ; and finally, there was a case with 
dolls and other battered toys that the great-great-grand- 
mothers of the present generation of Salem little girls had 
played with. 


830 


BRENDANS SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


Miss South and Julia turned away reluctantly; Amy 
more readily, because she had seen all these things before ; 
while Brenda was impatient to go once more in the street. 
Her thoughts were really turned toward the Custom 
House neighborhood. 

While the others lingered for a moment to look at some 
of the portraits in the hall, Julia asked a question or two 
of the librarian. 

“We’ve a number of very interesting log-books up- 
stairs,” Miss South heard him say; “and if you cared to 
spend the time some day, why I ’d be very happy to have 
you see them.” 

In answer to her teacher’s look of inquiry, Julia said 
that she was rather anxious to see some of the journals 
kept by the old sea-captains, of which she understood that 
the Institute owned a great many. 

“ I think that I might spend a day in Salem by myself 
some time,” she said. 

“There certainly could be no objection to it,” said Miss 
South. “Now,” continued the latter, “the next thing on 
the programme is luncheon ; ” and although the girls pro- 
tested that they were not very hungry, she took them to 
a neat little restaurant, where they found enough to eat, 
even if the variety might have been greater. 

“Now for the Custom House!” cried Brenda, when 
they had finished. 

“Why not say Miguel Silva at once,” interposed Julia; 
“we won’t care.” 

“Well, we might as well go there and get him off our 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 331 

mind, or rather,” and Brenda corrected herself, ‘‘off my 
mind.” 

“I don’t see exactly how we’ll find him,” said Amy. 

I can only take yon to a neighborhood where I ’ve 
heard some foreigners have lately moved in. There ’s 
a very old house, almost dropping to pieces, that some 
Poles have bought. They have fitted it up for half-a- 
dozen families, and it used to be one of the best houses 
in Salem.” 

With her mind, therefore, fixed on Miguel Silva, I am 
afraid' that Brenda did not pay very close attention to 
what Miss South told them about the old Custom House, 
as they stood in front of it, and admired its eagle and 
cupola. 

“It ’s a rather large building — for Salem,” said Julia. 

“Why, yes,” and Miss South glanced at her book. “I 
see that long ago Hawthorne said that it was a world too 
large for any necessary purposes, and had been even in 
the days of Salem’s India trade, and at the present time it 
seems all the larger.” 

“ Hawthorne was collector here once, was n’t he ? ” 
asked Amy. 

“Not collector, but surveyor of the Port,” responded 
Miss South. “The old Custom House owes most of its 
fame to him.” 

Brenda, impatient at the turn of the conversation, was 
already some distance ahead of the others. Amy, conse- 
quently, felt it her duty to hurry oh, and in a short time 
they were almost beyond speaking distance. One hand- 


332 


BKENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


some old mansion after another they passed, all of them 
facing the water. “The old sea-captains liked to live 
near the water. Their wharves were usually opposite 
their houses, and from the upper windows they could 
look well down the harbor, and see their vessels com- 
ing in.” 

“ It ’s a pity to see these old houses used for tenements 
or institutions.” 

“Yes, it does seem a pity. But there! We must 
hurry. Brenda seems impatient.” 

Brenda and Amy were now standing in the middle of 
the sidewalk, some distance ahead, and Brenda was wav- 
ing her hand impatiently. 

“There,” she cried, as they drew near, “I believe 
we ’ve found the place. I asked a woman if there were 
any Portuguese here, and she pointed to this old house. 
She said there was a woman named Silva; but she did n’t 
know about any man.” 

“You don’t really intend to go in? ” 

“Why, of course, Julia, with you and Miss South I 
shall feel perfectly safe; and Amy isn’t afraid of any- 
thing.” 

Julia turned toward Miss South. “Why, there can’t 
be any harm, even though no special good may come from 
the visit.” 

A blue-eyed woman answered the knock at the door. 
She certainly was not a Portuguese in appearance, al- 
though she admitted that she was Mrs. Silva. 

“ Is Mr. Silva in ? ” asked Brenda, boldly. 


BEENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


333 


“No, Miss,” responded the woman, still holding the 
door, without giving any further invitation to enter. 

But Brenda was not to be turned from her purpose. 

“Well, I have a picture, — did your little boy die? ” 

“Yes, Miss,” answered the woman; “he has been dead 
six weeks. I have only the baby.” 

The tone in which she spoke was Irish rather than 
Portuguese. 

“Well, could we come in? I have something to show 
you.” 

“Why, yes,” and pushing the front door open, she 
showed them into a room at the right of the hall. It was 
furnished like a kitchen, but a crib stood in one corner, in 
which a baby was sleeping. Mrs. Silva hastened into the 
bedroom, which led from the kitchen, and brought out 
two chairs. 

When they were all seated, Brenda took from her pocket 
a card-case. In this she had carried the envelope with 
the photographs. As she handed one to Mrs. Silva, a 
smile at first spread over her face. Then she reddened, 
and a tear fell with a splash on the picture. It was the 
photograph of father and child. 

“Oh, the poor little thing!” she exclaimed; “it’s me 
heart that ’s breaking for him every day,” and she threw 
her apron over her head. 

Now, at the first sight of the neat, pretty woman and 
the sleeping baby, Brenda’s desire for vengeance had 
begun to weaken. 

If she had had a policeman within call, and if Miguel 


334 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


himself had been present in the room, I do not believe 
that she would have had the Portuguese arrested, no, 
not even if she had already had a warrant properly 
made out against him. It is true that Brenda herself 
was not the person on whom the duty of prosecuting 
Miguel would have fallen, and the detective business 
which she had undertaken was decidedly amateur. Even 
as it was, she felt like leaving the house without men- 
tioning the wickedness of Miguel, especially when the 
poor mother hurst into a tearful cry, “ Oh, the poor little 
creature, the poor little creature, and I ’ll never see his 
likes again! ” 

At this moment a heavy step was heard in the hall. 
Julia and Brenda looked at each other. Could it be that 
Miguel had unexpectedly returned? Evidently he was 
not in the little tenement when they came in. 

But any questions they may have asked themselves 
came to a sudden end. 

“Good afternoon, Nellie,” cried a brisk, cheerful voice 
with a strong brogue ; “ but sure, you ’re not crying this 
fine day ! ” 

There was something familiar in the tone; and when 
Mrs. Silva’s visitor threw back a heavy brown veil, 
Brenda was astonished to see the face of Mrs. Moriarty, 
— the stout Mrs. Moriarty who had been so kind to her 
that hot day at Nahant. 

Mrs. Moriarty, in her turn, seemed more than aston- 
ished to see so many “reel leddies,” as she put it, in Mrs. 
Silva’s room. 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


335 


“Where’s Luis?” she asked Mrs. Silva; and then, as 
her eye fell on Brenda, she cried, “ Why, here ’s the 
young leddy I told you about, that helped me pick up me 
money in the ’bus.” And then she laughed so heartily 
that her fat shoulders shook ; and all the others, even the 
sad Mrs. Silva, and the dignified Miss South, smiled as if 
they too would have liked the power to laugh in that 
hearty fashion. 

Mrs. Moriarty, although she certainly would have 
made no pretensions to a knowledge of etiquette, was 
too polite to ask why all these strangers were sitting in 
Mrs. Silva’s kitchen, and so, to break the silence which 
again settled on them after that hearty laugh of hers, 
she repeated, — 

“Where ’s Luis?” 

“ Oh, he ’s off ; I don’t know where. He ’s bought a 
horse, and he can travel pretty far. He ’s selling peaches 
now.” 

At the word “ Luis ” Brenda had looked up in surprise. 
“ Is your husband Miguel Silva ? ” 

, “No, indeed,” said Mrs. Silva. 

“No, indeed, ” repeated Mrs. Moriarty, adding, “Do you 
know Miguel? ” 

“Why, no,” said Brenda; “that is, I have seen him, — 
why, this is his picture,” she concluded, pointing to the 
print of the man and the little boy. 

“That!” and Mrs. Silva looked at her in surprise. 
“Why, that is Luis, and my poor little Luis, too. We 
named him for his father.” 


336 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


The conversation thus far had been rather puzzling to 
Julia and Miss South. 

Amy had not pretended to understand the drift of it at 
all, and, indeed, while the others were talking, she had 
been bending over the crib with the little baby, and as he 
stirred in his sleep, she fanned him gently with the paper 
fan which she wore at her belt. 

But she was not prepared for the exclamation with 
which Brenda greeted this last remark of Mrs. Silva’s. 
It was so loud a “What do you mean?” that Amy 
hastily turned around. 

Mrs. Silva and Brenda were both bending over the 
picture, and Amy heard Brenda say, “But don’t you 
know Mrs. Rosa?” 

“I never heard of her,” responded Mrs. Silva. “Who 
is she?” 

“ Why, she is a Portuguese woman who used to live in 
Boston ; and when I told her that your little boy was dead, 
she said, ‘ Poor Maria! ’ ” 

“But that is n’t my name; it’s Nellie, is n’t it, mother?” 

“Well, by rights it’s Ellen,” said Mrs. Moriarty, with 
a twinkle in her eye. “But you do be called Nellie most 
always.” 

“ Why, Maria ’s the name of Miguel’s wife. She ’s my 
sister-in-law.” 

“ Oh! ” said Brenda. 

“There,” said Julia, “that is it; your husband has a 
brother. Does he look like him?” 

“ Oh, as like as two peas in a pod ; they ’re twins, and 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


337 


you could n’t tell which was which if you ’d see them 
together,” interposed Mrs. Moriarty. 

“But they ain’t alike in any other way except in looks,” 
said Nellie, loyally. “ Miguel — well, he ’s my husband’s 
brother, so I won’t say much. But — ” 

“ Where is Miguel now ? ” asked Miss South. 

“Oh, we don’t know; but he sold out everything last 
spring, and they say he ’s gone away off to Brazil, or some 
place like away off. He took everything he could lay 
his hands on, and we are the poorer for him. Bad luck 
to him ! ” 

“Hush! hush! Nellie,” cried the good-natured Mrs. 
Moriarty. “ It ’s good they ain’t the same inside that 
they are outside, for they ’re twins. Miss. Though there 
be some, I’ ve heard, that don’t think Miguel’s so very 
bad, only smart, — very smart.” 

“Too smart!” said Mrs. Silva, as Brenda, a little 
embarrassed by what had happened, rose to go. 

“You must keep the photographs,” she said, as she 
turned to bid good-bye to Mrs. Silva. “We were very 
sorry to hear about your little boy.” 

“Come, see the baby!” cried Miss South, who had 
joined Amy and Julia near the crib. Just then the baby 
gave a gurgling laugh; and when the grandmother real- 
ized that he was awake, she went over to the crib too, and 
as the others made way for her, she seized the little creat- 
ure in her arms, and held him up for the admiration of 
them all. 

At sight of the baby poor Mrs. Silva’s face began to 
22 


338 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


beam ; and as her visitors left the house she said good-bye 
very cheerfully, and promised to give to Luis Mr. Barlow’s 
address. Brenda had written it on a card, and Mrs. Silva 
said that she was sure her husband would call at Rockley 
when next he travelled in that direction. 


XXV 


THE summer’s harvest 

“ Well, Brenda,” said Julia, when they had walked a 
short distance from the house. “ How do you enjoy being 
a detective ? ” 

“Well, I did n’t detect so very much, did I ? But really 
I feel relieved that that pleasant Portuguese of ours is n’t 
Miguel Silva. If it hadn’t been for Mrs. Moriarty, I 
should hardly have been able to believe the story about the 
twins. Why, it ’s one of the strangest things that I ever 
knew.” 

By this time the situation had been explained to Amy, 
who hitherto had not fully understood it. 

“There’s one thing,” she said. “It may some time be 
possible for Luis Silva to recover part of that money from 
his brother, and return it to Mrs. Rosa.” 

“ Why, yes,” responded Brenda, “ I ’ll get papa to talk 
to him about it. Poor Mrs. Silva ! About the only good that 
I have ever done with my camera was to take those pictures 
of her little boy. It’s strange that she never had any 
taken herself. I’ve promised to send her half a dozen 
more. Well, now that I have Derby Street off my mind, 
what are we to see next ? ” 

“ Why, Hawthorne’s birthplace, I suppose,” replied Amy. 
“ It is not very far from here, and the house of the seven 
gables, if you feel like walking to it.” 


340 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“We can call this a Hawthorne trip,” said Julia, as they 
looked at the plain wooden house where the great romancer 
was born, and compared notes about the various works of 
his that they liked best. 

They walked down to the old Charter Street Burying- 
Ground (expressly at Julia’s request) and read the inscrip- 
tions on the old graves, and gazed at the large square house 
adjoining the graveyard, which is the model for the old 
house in “ Dr. Grimshawe’s Secret.” 

Finally, at Miss South’s suggestion, for she saw that they 
were all growing tired, they engaged a carriage, and in 
the hour and a half of their drive around the old town, 
there was little worth seeing that they left unseen. 

They saw the site of the old prison where those accused 
of witchcraft had been held, they went into the Court 
House, and gazed at Bridget Bishop’s death warrant, 
and they wondered that even two hundred years ago 
so strange a delusion could have flourished in a Christian 
country. 

“ But Salem and the Puritans must n’t take the whole 
blame,” explained Miss South. “ The New England delu- 
sion was only a faint echo of a belief in witchcraft that had 
persisted for a good while in various European countries. 
Only nineteen were hanged at Salem, yet, dreadful as it 
seems that any should have been victims of such a delusion, 
these nineteen are but a small number compared with the 
hundreds who, about the same time, suffered death for the 
same charges in other countries.” 

“ It ’s rather strange, though, is n’t it, that the Salem 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


341 


shops should be filled with all kinds of witch souvenirs,” 
said Julia, pointing to one window in which were several 
pieces of china and silver bric-a-brac, all representing a 
witch and broomstick. 

“ It certainly is twitting on facts,” replied Miss South. 

“ We are now going to see a house that is n’t exactly 
what it claims to be,” said Amy. “ It ’s called the Roger 
Williams House, although Roger Williams probably never 
lived there, and it is also spoken of as ‘ the witch house,’ 
although no witches were ever seen there.” 

“ Then why the name ? ” 

“ Well, during the witchcraft trials, one of the judges, 
nam^d Curwen, resided there.” 

“ It ’s a pity to have it turned into a shop.” Julia would 
have liked to see all old houses preserved in their original 
condition. 

“ Oh, no,” cried Brenda, “it’s just the place to get sou- 
venirs ; I ’m going in,” and as the others followed her up 
the narrow stairs into the low-studded room, they decided 
that the old building seemed ancient enough to bear out 
its claim to being the oldest house in Salem. 

Before they drove to the railroad station, Amy asked the 
driver to take them through Chestnut Street, where J ulia 
lost her heart to the elegant, stately mansions that seemed 
to speak of the leisurely lives of those who dwell in them 
to-day. 

“Even to-day,” she • said, “Salem is a little out of the 
current of the ordinary work-a-day world. I might not 
like to live here always, but I believe that I should enjoy 


342 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


a year or two in Chestnut Street. Wouldn’t you, 
Brenda ? ” 

“ Not I,” replied her pretty cousin, shaking her head. 
“ While I ’m in the world, I want to be in a place that ’s 
alive. Why, even the electric cars seem out of place in 
Salem, and if I lived here, I should never dare speak above 
my breath.” 

“ I wish that you were coming to Rockley with us,” said 
Julia to Miss South as they parted at the station. “Amy 
is to spend the night with us, and it would be delightful, 
if you could.” 

“ But I cannot,” and Miss South shook her head. “ My 
grandmother, I fear, will think that I have been away too 
long as it is. But I shall hope to see you soon.” 

It happened, however, that several weeks passed before 
Miss South saw the girls from Rockley again. In fact, it 
was not until some time after they had all returned to town. 
For a sudden change in the weather sent Madame DuLau- 
nay back to the city a day or two after the excursion to 
Salem, and Miss South had time only to write her good- 
bye. 

Mr. Barlow was highly amused with Brenda’s vivid 
account of her visit to Mrs. Silva. 

“ It ’s a pity that you had n’t a pair of handcuffs with 
you, as long as you turned private detective. If you had n’t 
had so large an escort, I should have been greatly displeased 
with you for prowling about in. a neighborhood where you 
were not acquainted.” 

“ Well, I was rather glad when Mrs. Moriarty appeared. 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


343 


She seemed quite like an old friend. I don’t think that I 
could have believed Mrs. Silva, except for her.” 

“ But you had seen her only once before. How could 
you know that she was telling the truth ? ” 

“ Oh, you ’d know at once if you should see her, you ’d 
be sure that she was perfectly truthful. Besides, she was 
once the Pounders’ laundress, and — ” 

“ Well, does that give her a moral certificate ? ” 

“Oh, well, Frances herself admitted that she was a 
very good woman, — for one of that class — she said. 
She had to admit that, for Nora did n’t like her finding 
fault with us for having made Mrs. Moriarty’s acquaint- 
ance on the way to Nahant.” 

As a result of the Salem visit, Luis Silva called one 
Sunday at Mr. Barlow’s, and although he would not 
accept any direct reward for what he had done to save 
Brenda from a bicycle accident, he did permit Mr. Barlow 
to give him some legal advice in the matter of a lawsuit 
that was pending between him and one of his countrymen, 
and he assured Mr. Barlow that this was worth much more 
to him than any money. 

September, with its shorter days, passed along rather 
quickly. The reading class went on with more vigor than 
in the early part of the summer, and for the first time 
in her life Brenda found herself taking an interest in 
books for some reason besides their mere power of enter- 
taining her. 

Thus she became interested in Madame D’Arblay’s 
Diary, by having first heard Julia read aloud Macaulay’s 


344 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


essay on this attractive woman. To be sure, she only 
dipped into the diary, reading the description of the visit 
which Madame D’Arblay and her little boy paid to Queen 
Charlotte, as well as some of the earlier chapters, — notably 
where Miss Burney, when lady-in-waiting to the Queen, 
had so fine an opportunity to witness the trial of Warren 
Hastings. Some chapters from Irving’s “Life of Wash- 
ington” also made a part of the programme. One of 
them contained the famous description of the great general 
crossing the Delaware, and the passage describing the 
“ amphibious regiment ” made up of Marblehead men. 
There was a little poetry on the programme, too ; for when, 
to Amy’s horror, Brenda admitted that she had never 
read “ Evangeline,” — the only way to reinstate herself, of 
course, was to become acquainted as quickly as possible 
with the Acadian heroine. 

“ Cranford,” however, which earlier in the season Brenda 
had read of her own volition, was the book that she 
selected as the subject of the essay which Miss Crawdon 
had requested her pupils to have ready when school 
opened. Although this is not properly part of the present 
story, it may be said that not one, even of the older girls, 
had a brighter or more interesting essay ; and her success 
so spurred Brenda on, that from that time composition- 
writing became one of her favorite exercises. 

It is not to be supposed, of course, that until she met 
Amy, Brenda had never read any serious books. But 
such reading on her part had been fragmentary, while 
in summer she had rather made a rule for herself that 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCia.EY 


345 


only the very lightest reading was permissible. But the 
comments and the explanations made by Julia and Amy 
when she read with them, their allusion to books, and 
to authors with whom she had no acquaintance piqued 
Brenda to such an extent, that she ceased to pride herself 
on her ignorance of what she called “deep books.” As 
a matter of fact, when a girl has reached this point, she 
is far on the road to wisdom. Only the girl who thinks 
her own way absolutely better than that of any one else 
is in danger of making no progress in knowledge. 

Nora’s stray words about the Flower Mission had borne 
good fruit in Brenda’s mind. Although the season was 
rather far advanced before she did much work in the 
matter of collecting and arranging flowers for the poor, still, 
at Amy’s suggestion, the flowers were freshly gathered on 
the mornings when the reading class met. Then, while 
one of the trio read, the other two arranged them in 
suitable bunches. Instead of going to the regular Flower 
Mission, these flowers from Rockley were sent to one of 
the Settlement houses, as it was always possible for some 
of the residents there to distribute them as soon as they 
arrived. Some such arrangement was necessary, as the 
girls, in spite of their zeal, were not able to have the 
hamper ready at precisely the same hour on given days 
of the week. Amy was of great help in this work, be- 
cause in the neighborhood of her house were more wild 
flowers than immediately around Rockley. Flowers from 
the garden were not abundant in September, for this was 
the month in which the most of their flower work was 


346 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


done, and Amy’s wild flowers were Brenda’s sole de- 
pendence. 

The good influence which Amy exercised over Brenda 
was, naturally enough, observed with great pleasure by 
Mr. and Mrs. Barlow. They appreciated it all the more, 
because they knew that it was exercised almost without 
any realization on Amy’s part that she was doing anything 
for Brenda. Simply by acting herself, she had made 
herself so attractive to the latter that the more serious 
standards of Amy seemed to Brenda well worth adopting. 
Naturally, she couldn’t make them wholly her own, or 
at least, not all at once ; and yet she had taken several 
steps forward in the direction of higher ideals. 

Julia, too, liked Amy very much. But Julia’s character 
was already more nearly formed than Brenda’s, and less 
likely to be influenced. As she was much the same kind 
of girl as Amy, why was not her influence on her cousin 
equally great ? It is not in my power to answer this 
question exactly. But many young girls will admit that 
the members of their household are the last persons whose 
influence they are willing to acknowledge. Brenda had 
overcome her early prejudice against Julia, and she seldom 
now showed opposition to anything that her cousin sug- 
gested. But remembering the experience of the past 
winter, Julia was always slow in suggesting things to her 
cousin. The indirect influence of Julia was stronger than 
she herself realized, and she was very glad indeed that 
Brenda had been attracted to a girl of Amy’s flne 
character. 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


347 


She could not help smiling when she noticed that “ The 
Countess ’’ novels had disappeared from her cousin’s book- 
shelves. 

“ I might have argued against them for weeks, without 
affecting Brenda in the least. She would have thought 
that books that I called a waste of time to read myself 
would not be equally harmful to her. She would have 
thought that I was measuring everything by a College 
standard. But Amy — well, Amy is a girl like herself, 
a few months younger in fact, and she has succeeded, 
without any effort on her own part, in making Brenda 
admire her. Why, Brenda is almost anxious to follow 
in Amy’s footsteps I A mere cousin does n’t count for 
much at such a time.” 

Julia’s words were probably as near a true explanation 
of Brenda’s feeling as any that could be given. 


XXVI 


TWO HEROINES 

In spite of the fine opportunity afforded her at Rockley, 
Julia, by September, had learned to swim only a few 
yards at a time. Brenda and Amy always laughed 
at her timidity, and they had also helped and encouraged 
her. But neither laughter nor encouragement had given 
her a sense of ease in the water. She was happy only 
when she could bathe in the surf, or splash about in fairly 
shallow water with a motion that was something between 
floating and swimming. 

Brenda and Amy, on the contrary, were expert swimmers, 
at least for their age, and they found it very hard to 
understand Julia’s timidity. In July and August at the 
bathing hour, which varied each day according to the 
tide, the pretty little semicircle of beach was crowded 
with bathers, or with those who watched them. Old and 
young went in at the same time, and the scene on the 
sands was always a merry one. In September the bathers 
were fewer, and there were not many lookers-on. But 
Brenda continued to bathe, even on days when the tem- 
perature of the water made it rather unsafe to do so. 
Just before the middle of the month, however, there came 
a warm wave, and for three or four days the ocean seemed 
more tempting than it had been even in midsummer. 


BRENDA'S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


349 


“Come, Julia,” called Brenda, “you must come down 
with me. I am to meet Amy and Fritz at the rocks, and 
at three o’clock the tide will be exactly right. I declare, 
I shall feel like staying in for an hour, it has been such 
a hot and tiresome day.” 

“Oh, Brenda, I would really rather stay here; the 
breeze is coming round towards this side of the house, 
and this room is shaded. A book and an easy-chair are 
much more comfortable than a bath.” 

“ There, Julia Bourne, you can never say that you are 
not lazy. This is the one thing about which you are 
absolutely lazy. I believe that you dread the trouble 
of the bath ! ” 

Brenda’s tone was one of mock severity; but a pleasant 
smile belied the gravity of her words. 

Julia closed her book slowly. 

“Well, perhaps I am lazy; for I am willing to admit 
that I would rather not exert myself. But perhaps I 
need the exercise, and bathing is almost the only exercise 
one can take on a hot day like this.” 

“Oh, yes, come on! You know that you always enjoy 
yourself when you are once in the water,” and Brenda 
pirouetted out of the room so energetically that Julia 
smiled, calling after her, — 

“ Don’t forget that it is a hot day I ” A half-hour later 
the two cousins stood on the beach in their bathing-suits, 
and looked around for Amy and Fritz. 

“We might as well go in without them,” Brenda at 
length exclaimed a little impatiently. “ But I don’t see 


350 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


why they have n’t come ; for Amy always does what she 
says she will do.” There were a few others in the water, 
but, as it happened, no one whom the cousins knew very 
well. Suddenly, after they had been in a minute or two, 
a girl on the shore waved her hands, and continued waving 
imtil Brenda realized that she was beckoning to her. 

“ I wonder who it can be ? ” Then, as she swam shore- 
ward, “ Why, it ’s Frances ! I wonder what has brought 
her down here.” 

In a few moments Brenda rejoined Julia, and told her 
that Frances was visiting the Whittingtons at their cottage 
on the cliffs just beyond Rockley. 

‘‘ She ’s coming out in her bathing-suit presently. She 
says that she has been taking lessons, and that she can do 
all kinds of remarkable things in the way of swimming and 
diving.” 

Presently Frances joined Brenda and Julia. She nodded 
at Julia, and approached Brenda with more enthusiasm. 

“ I ’m glad that you are going in to-day, Brenda. None 
of the Whittingtons care for bathing, and so I came down to 
the beach alone. If there had been time, I should have 
sent some one up to your house to inquire. But I did n’t 
tliink of it until the last minute, and then Mrs. Whittington 
said it was too hot to send one of the maids so far. Some 
people have such ridiculous ideas about their servants, and 
the man had gone over to Marblehead. But she thought 
that I ’d find you here.” 

By this time the two girls were some distance out in the 
water, and Frances continued her conversation with Brenda 


BRENDA'S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


351 


without paying the slightest attention to Julia. This treat- 
ment, however, did not disturb Julia. She was, indeed, 
too well accustomed to Frances to let her cause her the 
least uneasiness. Besides, she found it altogether more 
amusing to paddle about, now and then supporting herself 
with a board which in some way had drifted within the 
bathing limits. This was far pleasanter to her than follow- 
ing Brenda and Frances into the deeper water. Besides, 
out there the jelly fish, white or pink, were altogether too 
numerous for Julia’s fancy. Brenda did not mind them. 
In swimming she was expert enough to steer clear of them. 
She was inclined to laugh when Julia, with a scream of 
annoyance, drew back from the star-shaped pulpy things 
that floated about, altogether too near the surface of the 
water. 

“ It would be so very unpleasant,” she always thought, 
“ to swallow one of those queer things, and there seems to 
be no reason why they should n’t drift into my mouth.” 

So now she drifted indolently on the surface of the 
water. Her finger-tips rested lightly on the edge of the 
board as she moved along, making the swimming motions 
with her feet. She realized that she was staying a long 
time in the water ; but she felt so thoroughly refreshed that 
she dreaded going back to the warm shore. Glancing 
toward the beach, she saw that it was altogether deserted. 

“ Where in the world are Brenda and Frances ? ” she 
suddenly exclaimed to herself, glancing out in the direction 
where she had last seen them, splashing the water at each 
other after they had finished a short race. 


352 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


But Julia’s reflections were now interrupted by a scream. 

“ Julia ! Julia ! ” she thought she heard Brenda’s voice 
call, although Brenda herself was not in sight. Then her 
eye rested on a rock that was the farthest out at sea of the 
rocks, where she and Brenda, and Fritz and Amy and 
many other of the people near Bockley were accustomed to 
sit. These rocks showed a steep, high surface to the ocean, 
and at low tide the side toward the sea was covered with 
seaweed. There was one of these rocks which was wholly 
covered at high tide, and at low tide only the top of it was 
to be seen. The space between it and the others was too 
deep for wading, even at low tide. Indeed, there was deep 
water all around it. Julia had been warned by her uncle 
and Brenda not to go near it, as a current on one side 
made this a perilous spot even for a good swimmer. 

“ There ’s no danger of my ever going out there,” said 
Julia. “ That ’s one of the advantages of being a poor 
swimmer. I ’m not likely to take any risks.” Remember- 
ing her uncle’s caution, great, therefore, was Julia’s sur- 
prise, this September afternoon, on looking toward the 
rock, in the direction of Brenda’s voice, to see her appar- 
ently lying on the surface of the water, with one hand 
resting against the stone surface. 

But where was Frances ? 

In an instant Julia realized that this was not a time for 
questions. She must do something at once — but what ? 

Even as she was pondering what to do, she was floating 
a little nearer her cousin. “ The board, oh, Julia, the 
board ! ” She seemed to hear Brenda cry, and she pushed 


BRENDANS SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 353 

on faster. She never knew how she managed to do it, for 
usually the fact that she had reached deep water had an 
almost paralyzing effect, impelling her to turn around 
toward the shore. But now, regardless of deep water, 
regardless of the jolly fish that she passed on every side, 
she pushed on. So strong did she feel, so sure of herself, 
that she would have flung the board aside, to press on 
toward Brenda ; yes, to swim to her, although up to this 
time she had never tried a quarter so long a course. After 
what seemed to her a very long interval, she came within 
speaking distance of Brenda. 

‘‘Frances has hurt herself,” cried the latter, “a stone, or 
something — oh, hurry, Julia, I cannot hold her much 
longer ! ” 

Julia now, on looking more closely, saw that Brenda 
was keeping Frances’s head above water, and then — 

“Oh, Julia, I am so thankful to have you here! I do 
not think that I could have kept up a minute longer.” 

Poor Brenda gave a gasp of relief as Julia pushed the 
board in front of her. The strain had evidently been very 
severe. Julia for the moment was puzzled. She did not 
see wherein her coming had improved the situation. At 
this moment Frances opened her eyes. 

“ Oh, m}^ foot ! ” she cried in pain. 

“ There, Frances,” said Brenda, encouragingly, “ now we 
shall be all right. Just put your hands on the edge of 
the board, and I will keep hold of the back of your blouse. 
I can swim well enough with one arm, and we will aim 
for the small rocks.” 


23 


354 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“Yes,” continued Julia, encouragingly, “you must re- 
member that we shall quickly get into shallower water.” 

“ Are you coming, too ? ” asked Brenda. 

“Why, yes, why not?” responded Julia. “I will swim 
just behind, in case of any accident, if Frances should slip 
off.” 

But Frances did not slip off, and in a really rather short 
time, although it seemed long enough to the cousins, they 
had reached shallow water. Here Julia was glad to stand 
upright, and wade to the shore, a little ahead of Brenda 
and her charge. 

“ I have found a flat stone,” she said, turning around, 
and wading back to help Brenda with Frances. For now 
that they had reached shallow water, Frances could neither 
float nor walk. She could only kneel while Brenda sup- 
ported her. When they returned, the two girls made 
a kind of basket of their hands, and, raising Frances on 
it, they managed to get her to the shore. Just as they 
had reached the rock, they heard a voice from the summit 
above them. 

“ Who ’s been doing what ? Where in the world have 
you been?” 

“Why, it’s Arthur Weston!” cried Julia. “How in 
the world did he come here? I thought that he was 
in the woods of Maine.” 

The young man had not waited for a reply. His sharp 
eye had seen that there was something amiss with the 
girls, and clambering down, regardless of seaweed and 
pools of slimy water that did not improve the appearance 



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BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


355 


of his light tan shoes, he soon stood in front of them. 
Here, to his credit, it must, be told that the young man 
did not laugh, though he may have been tempted to do 
so. For certainly he could never have seen a more be- 
draggled or disconsolate-looking group of bathers. Very 
quickly, however, he realized that some mishap had be- 
fallen them, and when he found that Frances was the 
injured one, without a word he stooped forward, lifted her 
in his arms, and walked with great strides across the beach. 

“Where are you going, where are you going?” cried 
the girls. 

“ To that bathing house over there,” he replied ; “ the 
door is open, and we can fix a couch for her on that bench. 
There ’s a stable up the road, and I ’ll have a doctor or 
a carriage here before you can turn around.” 

“ Brenda, run to your bath-house and get dressed,” 
said Julia, “ I will stay with Frances until you return.” 

“ There ’s an old golf cape in Mrs. Whittington’s bath- 
house,” murmured Frances, “if you could bring it here, 
I could use it in the carriage.” 

Now while they were speaking Arthur Weston had gone 
off, and, in a surprisingly short time, he returned with a 
carriage. 

“ They had one harnessed,” he explained ; “ now where 
shall we go ? ” for he and the driver were already lifting 
Frances into the carriage. 

“To Mrs. Whittington’s,” said Brenda, who had now 
come back from her own bath-house, showing very little 
evidence of her hasty toilet. 


356 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“ There ’s room for you, too; but we mustn’t lose time.” 

“ Lock up Frances’s bath-house ; the key is in the door,” 
called Brenda, as they drove away, leaving to Julia the 
task of dressing herself and doing up Frances’s clothes into 
a large bundle, so that they should be ready when Mrs. 
Whittington’s man should come down for them. 

In the course of lialf an hour Brenda and Arthur W eston 
drove back in great spirits. 

« We’ve come to drive you home,” cried Brenda. 

“You mean that I am going to drive you both home,” 
interposed young Weston. “ You do not suppose I would 
let such heroines walk ! ” 

“ Yes, heroines, Julia ! ” cried Brenda, laughing. “ You 
and I are both heroines. That ’s what Mrs. Whittington 
called us, and she must know. Frances says that we 
saved her life.” 

“ Nonsense ! ” said Julia. “ At least, I can speak for 
myself. I didn’t save her life, although I cannot tell 
what you may have done.” 

“ Well, 1 am sure that I did n’t save her life,” returned 
Brenda. 

“Then it must have been I,” and Arthur Weston 
mockingly assumed a self-satisfied expression. “ Her life 
is certainly saved, and if you girls repudiate the heroic 
deed, why, the credit must be mine ! ” 

“All joking aside,” interrupted Julia, “I should like 
to know what really happened. Up to the present moment 
I have only the faintest idea.” 

“ Why, she stubbed her toe ; that is, she succeeded in 


BKENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


357 


some way in dislocating it. I told her to look out for 
that rock, but you know that she never will take advice. 
I am surprised that she felt it so much, though.” 

“ There was no pretending about it,” interposed the 
young man. “ She certainly was in great pain.” 

“ A little thing like that often is harder to bear,” 
added Julia, “than something that seems much larger. 
Frances must feel very grateful to you for supporting 
her in the water so long.” 

“ Strange as it may seem,” replied Brenda, laughing, 
“ she seems even more grateful to you. She thinks that, 
without you, we both should have drowned.” 

“Oh, dear, no! If I hadn’t been there, you would 
have found some way to climb up that rock, sharp and 
slippery though it looked.” 

“ Oh, I can’t bear to think of it I ” and Brenda shuddered. 
“You cannot imagine how helpless I felt for a moment. 
I was afraid that you would n’t be able to reach us. How 
did you manage to do it? You have always seemed so 
frightened in deep water.” 

“ I can’t tell how it happened,” responded Julia. “ I 
just seemed to be carried along, and I forgot to be afraid. 
Do they think that Frances will have much trouble with 
her foot ? ” 

“ She won’t be able to use it for some time, and she 
is in a rather nervous state. But every one is thankful 
that it wasn’t worse.” 

“ Can’t we talk of something more cheerful ? ” asked 
Arthur Weston. “We’ve all been rescued, and no lives 


358 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


are lost. Have you heard from the happy couple? No 
one sent a word to the woods of Maine, and I don’t like 
to feel that' the wedding deprived me wholly of my only 
brother.” 

“ Oh, we ’ve had letters ! ” responded Brenda, “ and two 
have been forwarded here for you. I wondered why, for 
I did n’t know that you were coming back this way.” 

“ As if I could pass within a hundred miles of Hockley 
without coming to see you ! ” 

Brenda looked at the young man out of the corner of 
her eye. She wondered if he were in earnest. But siie 
did not wish him to know that she wondered. 

“ No, indeed ! ” he continued. “ I wanted to see you 
all, and I had the Portland express stop at Salem, ex- 
pressly.” 

Julia gave a merry laugh. 

“ I was trying, Brenda, to see which of us ought to take 
all these compliments to heart. But a man who can make 
puns is n’t to be taken in earnest.” 

“ Ah, well ! ” and Arthur sighed heavily. “ I cannot 
see why some one is always doubting me. Here I’ve 
driven you the most roundabout road to the house, think- 
ing that you would thus have the chance to pay me at 
least one compliment, and not one have I had, except 
those that I ’ve paid myself.” 

“ You ’re looking rather sunburned,” said Julia. 

“That’s what your aunt said, when I saw her at the 
house.” 

“ Oh, you ’ve been at the house ? ” 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


359 


“ Of course ; how should I otherwise have known where 
you were? What should I have done with my valise? 
In response to Mr. Barlow’s kind invitation, I came pre- 
pared to stay at least a day. The valise would have been 
terribly in the way when I undertook the work of rescue.” 

“ I ’m glad you are going to stay,” said Brenda. “ It ’s 
been just a little dull the last few days.” 

“ And you think that I ’ll make things livelier. Well, 
we ’ll see.” 

As the carriage at this moment drove up to the door of 
Rockley, further conversation between Arthur and Brenda 
was interrupted. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


THE END OF THE SUMMER 

While the influence of Brenda on Amy had been less 
marked than that of Amy on Brenda, it had still been 
sufficient to make Mrs. Redmond approve highly of the 
intimacy between the two. She was pleased that this 
companionship had come to take her daughter out of 
herself. She noticed with some amusement that Amy’s 
poetry was taking a more cheerful cast, and that she less 
often wrote about “sad heart” and “dreary days,” and 
other melancholy themes. Indeed, she was not at all 
sorry that Amy spent less time now in verse-writing, for 
she knew that her daughter’s immature efforts had little 
value, and that her poetic talent would not be entirely 
blighted if permitted to rest for a while. She had never 
suggested to Amy that she should write less, fearing that 
by so doing she might seem unsympathetic. But since 
this result had been accomplished in another way, she 
felt extremely gratified. 

As I have said before, the angles of Amy’s disposition 
were decidedly rounded off by her contact with her new 
friends. She had become more tolerant of the foibles and 
frivolities, which formerly she had so strongly disap- 
proved. She had a genuine admiration for Julia, which 
increased when she learned that she was preparing for col- 


BKENDA’S SUMMEK AT KOCKLEY 


361 


lege. For if she could, if the way should ever open, she 
intended to go to college herself, and she had planned 
her High School course with this end in view. Although 
she admired Julia, she was fonder of Brenda, and the two 
were drawn together by the mysterious attraction of friend- 
ship, which is no respecter of persons, and which often 
brings together those whom observers think very unlike. 

Besides the intangible benefits, others that were more 
evident had come to Amy from her acquaintance with the 
family at Rockley. First of all, Julia had sat for a minia- 
ture to Mrs. Redmond. When it was finished, Mr. Bar- 
low had been so pleased with it that he had urged Mrs. 
Barlow to sit. 

At one of the sittings at Rockley, Mr. Elston had ap- 
peared one morning, and, to Mrs. Barlow’s surprise, he 
and Mrs. Redmond at once recognized each other. 

Before her marriage, when she was Amy Longstreth, 
Mr. Elston had known Mrs. Redmond, and he had also 
known her sister-in-law, now dead, Fanny Redmond. 

“ Amy Redmond ” had therefore seemed to him a 
strangely familiar name when he had first heard it. He 
had meant at some time to ask Amy about her family; 
but when he saw Mrs. Redmond the coincidence was 
explained. Mr. Elston had many questions to ask the 
latter about people in the distant town that had once been 
her home. Years before he had been in the habit of visit- 
ing it, and it saddened him to hear of the breaking up 
of families and of the many changes that had come in the 
families of other friends. 


362 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“Really,” said Mr. Elston, “I have been very stupid; 
for I can see now that your Amy resembles you and her 
aunt as well. I was a great admirer of Miss Fanny Red- 
mond, and from things I have heard Brenda say, I am 
sure that your Amy in many ways is like her aunt. She 
— that is. Miss Fanny — used to write poetry, didn’t 
she?” 

“Ah, yes,” responded Mrs. Redmond, with a sigh. 
“Her talent comes to Amy from her father’s family. I 
have not encouraged it as much as I might, for Amy 
must lead a practical life, and verse -writing is not exactly 
practical.” 

“Oh, well, now, you can’t tell. There was Mrs. 
Browning,” said Mr. Elston. 

“Amy will never be a Mrs. Browning,” said Mrs. Red- 
mond, smiling. “Indeed, I have not that ambition for 
her, although I wish her to have as good an education as I 
can possibly afford her.” 

“ Amy has been of great assistance to Brenda this sum- 
mer,” interposed Mrs. Barlow, who had been listening to 
the conversation. “Brenda herself does not realize how 
greatly she has been helped by Amy. But her father and 
I have realized it, and we are glad that the two girls have 
become warm friends.” 

Just then Brenda burst into the room, closely followed 
by Arthur Weston. 

“Good-morning, Mrs. Redmond; good-morning, cousin 
Edward. Oh, mammal Arthur has a letter; he must go 
to New York the first of the week to meet Ralph and 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


363 


Agnes. They want him there for a day or two before he 
returns to Yale.” 

“Yes,” replied Mrs. Barlow, with less surprise than 
Brenda apparently expected. “Yes, I have just had a 
letter myself.” 

“Well, what I wanted to ask is this; now you won’t 
say ‘ No, ’will you, please? ” 

In spite of herself, Mrs. Barlow smiled, “I can tell 
better, when I have heard your request.” 

“Well, it’s the end of everything now; every one is 
going somewhere, and Philip has to be in Cambridge next 
week, and — well, we all want to go to the Fair — the 
County Fair.” 

“ Oh, Brenda, really I do not see — ” 

“ Oh, yes, we have been talking it over, Arthur and I, 
and we would like to go on our bicycles. I am crazy to 
try that new one, — Philip will go, too, and Julia and 
Amy.” 

At tUs Mrs. Redmond looked up as if to say some- 
thing, and Mrs. Barlow responded, “Ah, if you have 
settled it, why do you ask me ? ” 

“ Oh, of course we have n’t settled it, mamma. I know 
that you never care to go to the Fair yourself; but I 
thought that perhaps you would let us go by ourselves.” 

“No, Brenda, really I cannot, — especially on your 
bicycles. If any older person were with you, I might be 
willing. But your father is too busy, and I really do not 
care to go. There are other things that you might do. 
You might make an excursion to — ” 


364 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCIOLEY 


“Oh, no, mamma, there is really nothing else; of 
course, if we cannot, we cannot, and Arthur will be so 
disappointed.” 

“There is nothing to prevent Arthur’s going with 
Philip,” and Mrs. Barlow smiled at Brenda, while laying 
her hand affectionately on her arm. 

At this moment, Mr. Elston, who had been talking with 
Philip, looked up. 

“ Cousin Anna, would you approve of me as an escort 
for the girls ? ” 

“Why, cousin Edward, the very thing!” and Brenda 
clapped her hands with delight. 

“But I thought that you did not care for wheeling,” 
Mrs. Barlow looked hard at Mr. Elston, to see if he was 
not planning an unnecessary sacrifice. 

“ I do not often have a chance to enjoy my wheel in the 
society of so many young persons. As the yachting sea- 
son is nearly over, I need some excitement. ” 

“We ’ll give you all you wish,” said Brenda. 

“ I trust that your charges will not give you too much 
care,” responded Mrs. Barlow; “but I can assure you 
that, so far as I am concerned, I have always found them 
reasonable.” 

“Yes, if you are reasonable, and that means agreeing 
to everything that we wish, Mr. Elston,” said Arthur, 
“we’ll promise to be fairly obedient.” 

Mrs. Redmond took no part in this conversation. But 
later, when she was alone with Mrs. Barlow, she said, 
rather seriously, “ I fear that Amy cannot go to the Fair. 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


365 


She has never had a wheel, and although I hope that she 
will have one next year, it has not been expedient to get 
one this season.” 

“That reminds me,” said Mrs. Barlow. But of what 
she was reminded, perhaps a word or two from Amy will 
give a clearer idea. 

“My dear Nora,” she wrote to Nora, who was now in the 
mountains. 

My dear Nora, — I have had such a delightful surprise. 
This morning I went downstairs feeling rather forlorn. You 
see, Brenda and the others — even Fritz and Ben — are going 
over to the Essex County Fair to-morrow on their wheels. 
It seemed rather hard that I could not go, too. It was 
extravagant even to think of hiring a wheel, and, besides, 
mamma has always been timid about letting me hire a wheel. 
She thinks that they are not safe. I really did feel rather 
downcast. For it was going to be about the last excursion of 
the season. I am pretty busy at school now, but as this was 
to be on Saturday, why, of course, I could go. But how lucky 
it is that I have learned to ride a wheel. For when I came 
down to breakfast this morning (by the way, I ^m quite a 
lady of leisure now, for Maggie Murphy is regular “ help ” 
for us now instead of just “assisting”) — 

Well, when I came downstairs, mamma asked me to go 
around to the side of the house, and there was a bicycle — a 
girFs bicycle — and mamma said that Mr. and Mrs. Barlow 
had sent it to me. They think that my acquaintance has 
been a good thing for Brenda. I don’t see how they per- 
suaded mamma to let me have it. But as long as I have the 
wheel, I need n’t ask any questions. Was n’t it lovely of 
them? I fancy that Brenda had a hand in it too. Yet I 
certainly wonder that they should all be so kind to me. 


366 


BEENDA’S SUMMER AT HOCKLEY 


The rest of the letter was brief, and intended for Nora’s 
eye alone. It explained why she had written a certain 
little poem which she enclosed, for during Nora’s short 
stay at Rockley she had proved more appreciative of 
Amy’s literary work than Brenda. Brenda liked almost 
everything that Amy wrote. After they once knew that 
she wrote verse, Amy was persuaded to let the girls at 
Rockley read much that she had written. 

Nora was more discriminating. In consequence, Amy 
heeded Nora’s suggestion, and had sent her one or two 
poems to read. Incidentally, in the letter, she gave her 
what news she could of Brenda and the others. 

Mrs. Redmond had hesitated at first about accepting the 
wheel. But Mr. and Mrs. Barlow so pleasantly gave their 
reasons for wishing Amy to ride with Brenda, that it 
seemed ungracious to refuse. 

“Besides,” said Mrs. Barlow, “we were intending to get 
Brenda a new bicycle this month, as her own is no longer 
fit for her to ride. But a strange thing happened yester- 
day. Brenda had a note from Frances Pounder, saying 
that she had ordered her own new chainless wheel to be 
sent over to Brenda from Nahant. She feels grateful to 
Brenda for her exertions the other day, and she knew that 
Brenda has desired a chainless wheel. Poor Frances her- 
self will not be able to ride this season, as the injury to 
her foot is much more serious than the family at first 
thought. As we have not to buy a wheel for Brenda, I 
hope that you will let us give this one to Amy instead.” 

Mrs. Redmond was too sensible a woman to refuse a 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 367 

gift SO delicately offered, especially when she knew that 
its acceptance meant so much to her daughter. 

“Amy! Amy!” called cousin Joan, on the morning of 
the ride to the County Fair. “Come upstairs for a 
minute.” Then, when Amy stood before her, “There, I 
just wanted to see how you looked. Turn around so that 
I can see the back of the skirt. Well, it ’s surprising 
what your mother can do with the needle. She ’s fixed 
that so ’s you could n’t tell it from a tailor-made. I don’t 
believe those Rockley girls will look a bit better than 
you.” 

“Thank you, cousin Joan,” said Amy, turning around, 
as the invalid wished. Since Amy’s acquaintance with 
Brenda and Julia had shown itself to be something fairly 
substantial, cousin Joan had been much more sympathetic 
than formerly. On the evening of the wedding, for ex- 
ample, she had lain awake until Amy returned, and had 
urged her to tell her everything that had happened. She 
asked for details that poor Amy had to admit that she had 
not noticed, — the length of the bride’s train, the kind of 
flowers that she carried, the color of Mrs. Barlow’s gown, 
and the names of many of the guests. Although she was 
rather tired, Amy sat down on the edge of the bed, and 
told an interesting story, not even forgetting the cutting 
of the wedding cake, and the fun that had grown out 
of that. 

Amy could tell a good story when she wished, and she 
tried to make her descriptions as picturesque as possible, 
for she realized how narrow the invalid’s outlook was, and 


368 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


she saw that it meant a great deal to her to have this 
glimpse of the doings of more fortunate people. One 
of the best effects on Amy of her intimacy with Brenda 
had been the broadening of her sympathy, so that she was 
much less impatient with the little peculiarities of cousin 
Joan, that sometimes were rather trying. 

“Don’t forget,” said cousin Joan, as she started to go 
downstairs, — “ don’t forget to see if Mrs. Murphy’s tidy 
gets a prize ; it ’s real Irish lace, and she ’s been working 
on it for a long time.” 

“Yes, ’m,” said Amy, as she hastened down and out to 
the side of the house, where Fritz and Ben were already 
waiting for her. 

They were not to ride all the way to the Fair, but at 
the station were to join Brenda and the others, and go by 
train to Salem. 

“ Let me see, ” cried Mr. Elston, as they got out of the 
cars, “are all my charges here?” and he proceeded to 
count “ one, two, three, four, five, six — why, with myself 
we are seven. That will suit the poetic members of the 
party,” and, with a smile in Amy’s direction, Mr. Elston 
mounted his wheel and led the way. They dismounted 
once or twice only, once merely to take breath, and once 
to visit the building erected to the memory of the great 
philanthropist, George Peabody, in which is a gold medal 
and other testimonials that he received in England. Up 
the long street from Salem through Peabody they pressed, 
and at last, before a large brick building, they halted. 

“Here we are! ” cried Mr. Elston. 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


369 


“Why, cousin Edward!” Brenda looked at Mr. Elston 
in surprise. Once before in her life she had been at a 
County Fair, and she did n’t remember anything like this. 
Ben and Fritz laughed loudly at the look of surprise 
on Amy’s face, as the three girls dismounted. 

“We ’ll stay and watch the wheels; we ’re not fond of 
pumpkins and patchwork,” they cried, as the others went 
inside. 

“I’ll go with you,” whispered Arthur Weston to 
Brenda. He had been very attentive to Brenda on the 
way over, and had ridden by her side, while the other boys 
had indulged in trials of speed, and had amused them- 
selves in an independent fashion — just as if there were 
no girls in the party. Brenda felt rather flattered by his 
attention; and when he told her how he regretted going 
back to college, she began to be sorry too, and she almost 
wavered in her allegiance to Harvard in her interest in 
this Yale undergraduate. 

“ There ’s one thing you could do, if you were really in 
earnest,” and her eyes beamed with fun, — “you might 
change your college. You ’d be nearer to me, — that is, 
to us, if you would come to Harvard. You probably 
wouldn’t have to drop more than a class.” 

“ If I could make the exchange, I almost would ; I would 
make almost any sacrifice to be near — Boston. But still 
it is a great deal for you to ask, sister-in-law,” Arthur 
Weston looked at Brenda reproachfully. 

“Your saying ‘ sister-in-law ’ reminds me,” said Brenda, 
“ that Agnes and Ralph wrote that they can be in Boston 

24 


370 


BRENDANS SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


for a few days the first week in October. We are going 
to close the house at Rockley at once, so that we may be 
at home when they come.” 

“Then this is almost the last excursion of the summer.” 

“ Yes, ” responded Brenda ; “ for after you go off on Mon- 
day, Julia and I will have any amount of packing to do, 
and I shall not have time for wheeling.” 

“ Then you must remember that I was part of this last 
party, ” said Arthur, so sentimentally that Brenda darted 
ahead of him to join Amy and Julia. During the con- 
versation between Arthur and Brenda, the others had been 
looking at the bits of handiwork, from amateur photographs 
to patchwork quilt, which had been sent in by the wives 
and daughters of the farmers of Essex County. They 
glanced rather hastily at these things, for Mr. Elston 
thought it unwise for them to tire themselves, in view of 
the walking they must do on the Fair grounds, and the 
long homeward ride. They made no effort, therefore, to 
press through the crowd to see the fruits and vegetables 
which the farmers of Essex displayed with much pride. 
Turning up a side road, not so very far beyond the Hall, 
they soon came upon the Fair grounds. 

“A circus!” exclaimed Julia, as she stood at the en- 
trance, while the boys checked the bicycles. 

“ I have seen several circuses ; but I had no idea that a 
County Fair was like this.” 

“It’s great fun!” replied Brenda; “we can buy pea- 
nuts, or do almost anything that we like, as long as cousin 
Edward is with us.” And suiting the action to the word, 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


371 


she ran over to a stand, where she bought two or three 
bags of peanuts, and another of popcorn balls. She then 
patronized the balloon man, and made each of the other 
girls tie a pink balloon to her belt. 

“As a reminder of Philip,” said Julia. 

“Well, I wasn’t thinking of him,” responded Brenda. 
At this the others laughed, though why, it would have 
been hard to tell; and Brenda added, — • 

“I reallyam sorry that Philip could not come to-day; 
he and Tom Hearst are always fine company on excursions.” 

Overhearing this remark, Arthur Weston put on an 
injured air, “Harvard always has to come to the front, 
even at a County Fair.” 

“We ’re always fair,” responded Amy. 

“I ’ll try not to consider that a pun,” said the young 
man; “but if I had a yacht called ‘The Union Jack’ 
would you wear a flag at your button-hole?” 

“ Without seeing the boat and the flag it ’s hard to tell,” 
replied Julia, gravely; but Brenda and Amy made no 
reply, because just at that moment Fritz and Ben came 
up to urge them to hurry over to the open-air theatre, 
where a very remarkable man was about to perform a very 
remarkable feat on the trapeze. 

Older persons might have found the County Fair tire- 
some, after they had admired the sleek animals in their 
stalls, and the horses that raced or trotted in the ring. 

But Mr. Elston’s charges found fun in everything. 
They even peeped in at some of the side-shows, and shot 
at a target in a funny little shooting-gallery. 


372 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“Oh, look, Julia, look! isn’t that my gypsy? You 
saw her the day of the wedding,” and Brenda grasped 
her cousin’s arm excitedly. 

Glancing where Brenda pointed, Julia saw, only a few 
feet away, the gypsy whom Mr. Barlow had sent from the 
house. She was gazing at them rather sullenly, and Julia 
did not like her expression. 

“There!” exclaimed Arthur; “before Mr. Elston re- 
turns from his last look at the prize cattle, we ’ll just have 
time to have our fortunes told.” 

“Oh, no,” said Julia; “I wouldn’t.” 

But the young man was headstrong. “I ’m going,” he 
said, and before they could stop him, he had reached the 
woman. 

“ Really, I believe he ’s having his fortune told, ” said 
Brenda. “I didn’t suppose he ’d be so silly,” forgetting 
that it was n’t so very long a time since she had been 
equally foolish. 

Presently the young man came back, laughing. 

“There, I ’ve had my fortune told; and what do you 
suppose she said ? ” 

“People do not usually tell what the gypsy prophesies,” 
said Amy, demurely. 

“Oh, I don’t care,” retorted Arthur. “But which of 
you girls has the gypsy a grudge against?” 

“Why?” 

“Oh, she told me to beware of a dark-haired young 
lady who was likely to do me much harm.” 

“Brenda’s hair is the darkest,” remarked Julia. 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


373 


“Ah, sister-in-law,” said the young man, “I wouldn’t 
have thought it of you. What are you plotting against 
me?” 

“Nonsense! ” cried Brenda. “Of course I ’m not plot- 
ting anything.” 

Yet, in spite of her protest, on the homeward ride Brenda 
was rather quiet, and she rode beside Amy most of the 
way. They had almost reached Rockley, when Brenda, 
in bidding good-bye to Amy, jumped from her wheel at a 
turn of the road. Instead of standing it against a tree or 
fence for support, she rather carelessly left it lying at the 
edge of the road. Unluckily, just at that moment Arthur 
came dashing around the corner. Before Brenda could 
pick up her wheel, he had grazed against it with just force 
enough to throw himself off. In an instant Mr. Elston 
came up to him, and assisted him to his feet. The young 
man gave a sharp cry of pain, as he tried to put his left 
foot to the ground. 

“ You ’ve really done it, sister-in-law,” he said, as Brenda 
looked at him, too much disturbed, really, to speak. 

“Run on, Fritz, to Rockley, and have Thomas bring a 
carriage at once, and telephone for the doctor,” said Mr. 
Elston, as he made a place on the grassy margin of the 
road where Arthur could rest comfortably until help came. 

Luckily the young man, while his foot was at rest, was 
not in great pain, and his high spirits did not desert him. 

“Really, sister-in-law,” he said, “I wouldn’t have 
thought it of you, — to treat me this way, and I a visitor 
at your father’s house. But there ’s one satisfaction; you 


374 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


see the gypsy was right. Ugh! but it does hurt,” and he 
tried not to show his pain. 

Luckily, when the doctor examined the injury, he found 
that though the ankle was really sprained, a few weeks of 
complete rest would set the young man on his feet again. 

Yet although the injury was slight, compared with what 
it might have been, the doctor strictly ordered Arthur 
not to use his foot. At New Haven he might have been 
tempted to disobey, — and so Arthur himself saw that it 
was wisest to accept Mrs. Barlow’s invitation to remain 
a week or two with her. 

“ I ’m as happy as a king,” he would murmur, as he 
reclined in a deep chair with his foot supported on an 
ottoman which Mrs. Barlow had made just the right 
height for him. 

“ I ’m as happy as a king, for neither sister-in-law, nor 
you, Julia, would dare to refuse me anything I ask.” 

“You ’d better not be too sure,” responded Julia, with a 
smile. “ I am more independent than Brenda, for I had 
nothing to do with your accident. However, as you’ve 
been pretty patient this morning, I’ll play you just one 
game of hjalma, although I really dislike games.” 

“ You ’re very good,” said Arthur, as Julia moved away 
to get the hjalma board, “ but is n’t that Brenda’s step ? ” 
and he listened intently to a footfall on the piazza. 

“ Ah, galley-slave I ” he exclaimed, as she approached. 
“ Julia is released, and you, sister-in-law, must take her 
place at the board.” 

“ Why, I have no objection,” said Brenda ; “ I ’d rather 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


375 


play a game than read aloud. I ’m awfully tired of that 
‘ Holy Roman Empire ’ that you Ve been making me read 
to you this week ; I don’t understand a word of it.” 

“ Of course not,” and the yoiing man shook his head ; 
“ that ’s your penance for having thrown me off my bicy- 
cle. It ’s your duty now to help me keep my standing in 
college.” 

“ That’s a pretty poor pun! ” exclaimed Julia, from the 
corner where she had seated herself with a book. 

“ It certainly is,” responded Brenda. But Arthur took 
no notice of t eir criticism. Already he had begun to 
arrange his men on the board, and apparently was plan- 
ning his campaign. 

Thus for Julia and Brenda the last week or two of the 
summer ended, in the care of a very lively invalid who 
insisted that one or the other of the two should always 
be ready to amuse him. We may call these the last weeks 
of summer, even though the month was reall}^ October. 
For on the North Shore it is “summer ” with the cottagers 
until they return to the city. Arthur left Rockley a 
week before Mrs. Barlow and her family went up to Bos- 
ton. He leaned a little on the crutch which his brother 
had sent him, and which his doctor had insisted on his 
using ; but he was bright and cheerful as ever. 

“ I forgive you, sister-in-law,” he called to Brenda, as he 
stepped aboard the car. 

“ We shall miss him,” said Mrs. Barlow, with a sigh, as 
she turned awa}^ “ Arthur certainly has been a great 
addition to our summer.” 


376 


BRENDA’S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY 


“ He and Amy,” responded Brenda, loyal to the new 
friend from whom in many ways she had learned so much. 

“Arthur and Amy have certainly helped you a great 
deal,” said Mrs. Barlow. 

“ Helped me ? Arthur ? ” questioned Brenda. 

“ Why, yes,” and Mrs. Barlow smiled. “ I am sure that 
Arthur has developed unexpected powers of patience in 
you, just as Amy has taught you to be more contented. You 
are sure of that, are you not? ” 

“ I am sure that Amy has taught me many things, and 
that without her I could hardly enjoy another summer at 
Rockley.” 




Brenda, Her School 
and Her Club 


By HELEN LEAH REED 

Author of “ Brenda’s Summer at Rockley,” “ Miss Theodora,” etc. 
Illustrated by Jessie Willcox Smith. lamo. Decorated Cloth. $1.50 


Miss Reed’s girls have all the impulses and likes of real girls as 
their characters are developing, and her record of their thoughts and 
actions reads like a chapter snatched from the page of life. It is 
bright^ genial^ merry ^ nxjholesome^ and full of good characterizations. — 
Boston Herald. 

Equal to the best of the recent books of school life about boys. 
Lively and amusing, revealing a shrewd understanding of girl nature, 
and containing considerable Boston local history. — The Congrega- 
tionalist. 

Unless we greatly err, this is a story which the girl of the times 
who is fortunate enough to read it will pronounce “ perfectly fine.” — 
Brooklyn Times. 

The descriptions in the book are thoroughly well done. Miss 
Reed seems to have discovered a new field. — Boston Budget. 

A very natural story of a group of school-girls. — Outlook^ Nenv 
York. 

The book is a thoroughly entertaining one, and contains a vivid and 
inspiring description of a Harvard football game. . . . The illustra- 
tions by Jessie Willcox Smith are extremely good. — Henju Orleans 
Picayune. 

A wholesome book of schoolgirl life. . . . It is an interesting and 
instructive book, the sort that ought to be in Sunday-school libraries. 
— Church Militant^ Boston. 

The author knows how to “hold the mirror up to nature,” and 
does so with telling result. — The Watchman. 


Little, Brown, & Company, Publishers 

254 Washington Street, Boston, Mass. 


Anna Chapin Raj/'s 

SUCCESSFUL 

“Teddy" Stories 


TEDDY: HER BOOK. A Story of Sweet Sixteen, 
Illustrated by Vesper L. George. izmo. Decorated 
Cloth. $1.50. 

PHEBE: HER PROFESSION. Illustrated by 
F. T. Merrill, izmo. Decorated Cloth. ;^i.50. 

TEDDY: HER DAUGHTER. Illustrated by J. B. 
Graff, izmo. Decorated Cloth. %\.zonet. {Just Ready.) 


From “THE CHRISTIAN REG 


TER 


P HEBE: HER PROFESSION. By Anna 
Chapin Ray. 

Miss Ray^s work draws instant comparison with the 
best of Miss Alcotf s ; first.^ because she has the same 
genuine sympathy with boy and girl life ; secondly., because 
she creates real characters., individual and natural., like 
the young people one knows., actually working out the 
same kind of problems; and., finally., because her style of 
writing is equally unafif'ected and straightforward. 

She builds upon clearly thought-out convictions, 
and the influence of the book will be wholly for good, 
tending toward a sane, wholesome view of life gen- 
erally. There is a deal of fun in it too. In short, this 
is one of the few books written for young people 
into the making of which has gone a vigor and grace 
such as one asks for in a good story for older people. 





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